


Go Land Crabs!

by QuietlySomethingAlso



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-07-25 23:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 64,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16208321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuietlySomethingAlso/pseuds/QuietlySomethingAlso
Summary: In 1992, Jimmy McGill arrives in Albuquerque to take a job in the mailroom at HHM, hoping to leave Slippin' Jimmy behind and make his brother proud.Turns out it's harder than it sounds.





	1. Endorsement

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is intended to be compatible with canon up through the end of season 4. Given the show's fondness for flashbacks, it's unlikely to stay that way. In fact, given that the story revolves around the show's backstory it's very likely that some elements will eventually end up not being canon-compliant by the end of the series. And, of course, I may slip up on details from time to time (though I will try to make revisions to amend such mistakes, if possible). But I'm going to do my best here :P  
>   
> I also feel I should give a general spoiler warning for the show. Read at your own risk! This is a prequel, so spoilers are unlikely, but anything can happen so just be prepared- I will probably allude to future events, as well as make references to events that happened in flashbacks within the show. I'm not making a point of avoiding spoiling any season, so I would recommend being caught up!
> 
> With that said, thank you so much for reading! I really appreciate all feedback and comments; I love to know what people are enjoying and what I should be making a point to do better.

“Holy crap on a stick, Chuck. Look at this place.”

Standing at his brother’s side with his hands on his hips, Jimmy raised a hand above his head. HHM’s headquarters towered above the pair, glinting in the oppressive Albuquerque sun.

Chuck frowned at the comment, but Jimmy didn’t notice, given that he wouldn’t take his eyes off the building.

“I feel like Dorothy standing at the gates of the Emerald City,” he continued with a disbelieving chuckle. “I mean, the way Mom described it to me, you’d think you worked in a palace, but even still. This is impressive as hell. Seriously.”

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, Jimmy,” Chuck said with an exhausted smile, “but please try to keep an air of professionalism. It’s your first day, don’t forget.”

“Professional. Don’t worry. I’m all about professional.” Jimmy threw out his hands in front of him with a click of his tongue, his loose tie swaying with every dramatic gesture.

Chuck shook his head. “Alright. Let’s head inside. We can’t stand out here all day admiring the architecture.”

“Says you. If I was in charge here, I don’t think I’d be able to do anything else.”

“Yes, well.”

‘That’s why you’re not in charge’, is what Chuck very conspicuously did _not_ say. Not that it bothered Jimmy; he deserved it, after all, or so he figured.

The pair stepped inside, Jimmy trailing a few steps behind. His mouth only gaped wider as he got his first real look at HHM’s grand lobby, but he only had a few seconds to gawk before the two of them were interrupted by some dashing man in overpowering cologne.

“Chuck. I thought that was you,” the man declared energetically, moving in to shake Chuck’s hand.

Chuck returned both the handshake and the grin. “Good morning, Howard. I hope I didn’t leave you standing here in the lobby waiting for me.”

Chuck’s law partner. Like Chuck Junior, or so Jimmy had always imagined him.

“It’s not a problem,” said Howard. “I just- I wanted to let you know, Arnold from QNF is waiting for us… because he showed up almost twenty-five minutes early. I know you don’t want things to get started without you, though; so I’ve just been stalling. Best not to keep him waiting too much longer, though.” Howard turned away from Chuck, raising an open hand toward the man ducking behind him. “I’m sorry; I’m getting ahead of myself. Is this Jimmy?”

“Yes, this is him.” Chuck flashed a smile, which vanished almost instantly as he leaned to the side to look up the stairs toward the second floor. “You know what, Howard? I agree; it’s really best not to keep him waiting. I think I’m going to go make an appearance.”

“Sounds good. I’ll catch up in just a minute.”

As Chuck turned to leave, he jumped with surprise from the hand patting him on the back.

“Hey!” said Jimmy, swiping a bit of hair on his forehead. “You go give it to ‘em, Chuck!”

“Mm.” Chuck raised a hand. “Good luck today, Jimmy.”

And with that, he was off, leaving Jimmy alone with the strange, disconcerting man in the three-piece suit.

Smiling from ear to ear, Howard craned his neck toward Jimmy, extending a hand and causing Jimmy to shuffle back a step.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jimmy. Chuck told me all about your situation.”

Jimmy returned the handshake with a limp wrist.

“Oh…” He grunted, gritting his teeth apprehensively. “He, uh… he did, huh?”

“Yes. Yes, he did.” Howard’s smile vanished for one fleeting second, as if to make a point, and then reappeared as though nothing had happened. “You’ve got one hell of a brother. Chuck is the backbone of this firm. And let me tell you something: in all my years knowing him, if there is one thing I’ve learned about him, it is that there is _nothing_ he cares more about than the principle that the guilty pay proper retribution, and that those who need help receive proper rehabilitation.”

“I understand that. I do. I really- I really want to-”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to defend yourself. I just want to make it clear how meaningful it is to have his endorsement. Chuck trusts you to make the most of this opportunity, so I do, too. Chuck believes in second chances, and so, I do, too.” Howard sucked in his breath, taking a step back to appraise Jimmy from head to toe. Then he patted him on the shoulder. “Welcome aboard, Jimmy.”

They exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Jimmy knew without a doubt that, six months ago, this douchebag was exactly the kind of putz he would have ripped off without a second thought.

But today, of course, he was being professional.

“Thank you, Mr. Hamlin,” Jimmy replied with a faint smile. “I- really, thank you. I promise I won’t disappoint you. Or Chuck.”

“I’m glad to hear that. With that attitude, I’m sure you’ll fit right in here.” Howard straightened out his jacket, pausing for a moment to think. “Why don’t you talk to Diane at the front desk? She’ll point you where you need to go.” Sweeping a hand behind him, he gestured toward the other end of the lobby before starting off toward the stairs. “I have some work to get to. Good luck, Jimmy.”

Jimmy lifted a hand to his lips to call after him. “Thanks- uh, thanks, Mr. Hamlin!”

As soon as Howard was out of sight, he dropped both arms at his sides and took a deep breath, taking another minute just to look around the lobby.

The building was air conditioned and cool, the lights bright and energy-efficient. Full of productive and forward-thinking people. In other words, about as far from a sleazy Cicero dive bar as you could get.

Jimmy had felt more at home in jail.

Kicking himself for the thought, he cupped his hands together and trotted off toward the front desk, composing himself and smiling brightly at the cute girl working reception.

“Diane!” Jimmy clapped his hands together, resting both palms on his side of the desk. “Diane. Diane Keaton.”

Diane, focused on something on her computer screen, barely even craned her neck up to look at him. “My last name is Miller.”

“No, no! Diane Keaton. You’re kidding me, right? C’mon, she’s an actress. She was in _The Godfather_.”

Nothing. Jimmy scoffed.

“ _Annie Hall_? With Woody Allen?”

Diane blinked twice.

“Okay, okay. Uh. Diane Chambers. You know that one.”

Diane’s eyes glazed over.

“Oh, come _on_. Diane Chambers. Sam and Diane? Shelley Long? What, you haven’t seen _Cheers_? You’re killing me here.”

They stared past each other for a second or two.

“…Sir, is there something Mr. Hamlin asked you to speak to me about?” asked Diane, breaking the painful silence.

Jimmy clicked his tongue, hands slipping off the counter and into the pockets of his slacks. “Ah… yeah. I’m Jimmy McGill,” he mumbled, defeated. “Chuck’s brother. I’m supposed to start in the mailroom today?”

“Right. Jimmy McGill.” She glanced at her computer again. “Take the elevator down one floor. From there, you’ll make the first left at the end of the hall. Look for Ernesto; he’ll help get you started.”

“Gotcha. Thanks.” He smacked his lips, drumming his fingertips on the counter. “…Diane Sawyer. Yeah? She was on _60 Minutes_. On CBS.”

Diane narrowed her eyes at him.

“Okay, I… I don’t know why I bothered with that one.”

* * *

The basement was dimmer and altogether much less hopeful than the welcoming lobby- much more familiar, Jimmy thought, as he made the first left at the end of the hall.

He stared down the door with a furrowed brow, and raised both hands in front of him.

“‘It’s showtime, folks.’”

He opened the door and marched inside, and immediately bumped into someone going the opposite direction, nearly knocking a package out of their hands. They brushed past without a word, and Jimmy’s hurried apology fell on deaf ears.

That seemed to be the general theme of the mailroom, with overworked employees rushing back and forth without much regard for each other. The whole room was filled end-to-end with mailboxes, paper, and bureaucracy. Jimmy wiped sweat off his forehead as he contemplated his fate.

“Hey! Excuse me! Excuse me?” cried out a faint voice from somewhere, only barely forceful enough to capture Jimmy’s attention.

As he turned, he found himself face-to-face with a young African-American man, stuffed into a dress shirt that only marginally fit better than Jimmy’s. He would have been surprised if the kid didn’t seem so aggressively unthreatening.

“Hey, are you… are you Jimmy?” he asked, awkwardly straightening out his clothes.

“Yeah.” Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “The one and only. You are?”

“Ernesto. Diane said you were headed down; I was gonna help you get situated in the mailroom…” he trailed off.

“Ernesto. Yeah, you’re the one I’ve heard so much about. Ernesto, Ernesto…”

“Actually, you can just call me Ernie…”

Jimmy jabbed a finger at him. “Like the Muppet!” he chuckled. “Got to tell you, Ernie, I’m glad you said that, because I was having a hard time coming up with a famous ‘Ernesto’.”

Ernie scratched the back of his head, chuckling quietly. “I guess you haven’t met Burt, yet, huh? Heh…?”

“Ah. You’re shittin’ me! There’s a Burt here, too? Tell me you’re roommates.”

“Actually, I don’t think he likes me too much… but, uh, I really shouldn’t be getting off track. At least, not while we’ve got work to do.” He pursed his lips together. “…Che. Che Guevara? Like the revolutionary? I think his name was Ernesto.”

“You. I _like_ you. Diane at reception could learn a thing or two from you.” Jimmy threw up his hands incredulously. “You know she hasn’t seen _Cheers_?”

“She’s just a little… uh, she’ll warm up to you.” Ernie smiled artificially. “But it’s good that you’re learning people’s names. Have you ever worked in a mailroom before?”

“Nope. Not, ah, not as such, no. But… I’m good with names!”

“That’s good. That’s gonna be important.” Gesturing behind him, Ernie directed Jimmy to a counter full of letter trays. “Most of the job is basically organizing mail and delivering all over the office, so names are important. That’s why they stuck you with me today. I can take you through my routine today, and you can start to get a handle on how to sort stuff properly and where to deliver it.”

“Sounds, uh.” Jimmy tucked his hands into his pockets. “Glamorous.”

“Yeah, not exactly. But that’s the job.”

Jimmy nodded, but his attention was more focused on the few employees in the mailroom, scurrying around like ants with enthusiasm unwarranted by a nine-buck-an-hour salary. Ernie scratched behind his head and rocked on his heels. The silence between them was undercut by the wheeling of a mail cart, pushed past the two of them by a young man who looked like he couldn’t possibly be old enough to have graduated from high school yet.

Jimmy fixed his tie self-consciously.

“Look, we should really get moving,” Ernie said after an unbearably long time, gesturing for Jimmy to follow- which he did, reluctantly.

“I was hoping you guys would have those sucky air tubes," said Jimmy. "Like... that suck up mail. Is that just in hospitals?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” Stopping short in front of a counter, Ernie reached into a mailbox and retrieved a stack of papers, which he laid out on a tray. “We just get the mail from here and deliver it to the employees. It’s really not that complicated.” He looked briefly at his shoulder, catching Jimmy off-guard.

He waved to Jimmy to move in closer, sorting the papers over a small package.

“Most of this morning, we’re gonna be making some of the normal rounds upstairs. But make sure you pay attention for this part, ‘cause we need to be efficient with the mail carts.” Ernie rubbed his hands together with some kind of perverse enthusiasm. “I’m gonna show you how to sort manilla envelopes.”

* * *

Dan, like Danny Zuko.

Megan, like Meg Ryan.

Andy, like Andy Griffith- and Ron, like Opie.

Jimmy had a million of them- and not one would go to waste, following Ernie from cubicle to office to cubicle and meeting Chuck’s underlings one by one.

The morning lasted for an eternity, and Jimmy found himself bonding with Ernie like they were war buddies. David-and-Goliath tales of the little guys slaving away in the mailroom, and the lawyers upstairs towering above them. Not everyone in New Mexico save for Chuck was completely devoid of a soul, so it seemed.

“What’s the difference between a tick and a lawyer?”

Jimmy snapped his fingers, sipping from a soda can with his free hand. “Oh! The tick falls off-”

“The tick falls off when you’re dead, yeah. That’s gotta be my favorite one.”

“I love it.”

Ernie and Jimmy sat across the table from each other, eating a late lunch in the depths of the mailroom. Jimmy had his mouth full of sandwich, but didn’t slow down for a moment, spitting crumbs as he spoke.

“So this is what you guys do all day, huh? Deliver their packages, and then roast them when nobody’s looking.”

Ernie shrugged at the thought. “Well, it kills the boredom.”

“Eases the pain. Tsch.” Jimmy nodded to himself, setting down his food and rubbing his hands together. “Alright, alright… what do you call a dozen attorneys buried up to their necks in cement?”

“What’s that?”

“A good start! Hah!”

“Nice.”

“I could get used to this.”

Jimmy chuckled, wiping his mouth with his hand and taking another look around the mailroom. It was quieter and much less busy in the afternoon, though a few odd people were still wandering in and out. A couple others were eating their own lunches at separate tables.

Jimmy settled on one- a young woman a table over, absentmindedly picking away at a bag of potato chips and reading a book that looked thicker than a dictionary.

He rested his head on his hand. “Hey, who’s the, uh… the chicky blonde? In the skirt?”

Ernie didn’t answer, as he was apparently distracted by something he was struggling to dig out from the bottom of his brown paper bag.

It didn’t really matter, though, because Jimmy didn’t care to wait around for a response. His legs had already lifted him out of his seat and carried him over to where she was sitting, working on autopilot.

Looming over her with one palm on the table, Jimmy cleared his throat with a fist in front of his mouth, resting it on his hip.

“You gonna finish those?”

“Gck- oh!” The woman nearly choked on a potato chip, letting out a girlish yelp and sliding back in her seat. Jimmy froze.

“I- uh, sorry, you surprised me,” she huffed. “Did, uh, did you need something?” Pressing a hand to her chest, she cleared her throat, shaking her head briskly and looking up at him. “…Hang on, I’m sorry! Um, you’re the new guy, aren’t you?”

He played it off coolly. “Jimmy.”

“Kimberly Wexler. I go by Kim. Good to meet you, Jimmy.”

She cleared her throat a second time and took a sip of water before extending her hand for him to shake.

“Kim! Got it!” Jimmy chirped, eager to change the subject as he shook her hand. “Kim… Kim Hunter. Kim Il Sung.” He made prayer hands. “Supreme Leader.”

“You’re referring to the dictator.” She narrowed her eyes. “Also, a man.”

“Oh, shit; you mean you’re not…?”

Caught off-guard, Kim snorted loudly at the joke and quickly looked away with embarrassment. Jimmy tried not to look too pleased with himself.

“It’s, uh… Jimmy _McGill_ , right? You’re Charles’s little brother?” she asked, returning to her lunch. “That’s what the word was.” She crunched on another chip.

“Yeah. Good old Chuck. Jesus, I owe him my life for getting me this job.” Jimmy leaned back on the table. “Seriously, you don’t know the half of it. They say lawyers are sharks, but that man is a saint.”

“It must be really wild. I mean, seeing your family’s name up on the sign.”

“Yeah, well.” Jimmy shrugged. “That’s all alien to me. This whole thing, HHM, this is Chuck’s world, not mine. Honestly, the mailroom is complicated enough for me.” He looked back at Ernie for a half-second. “I mean, don’t get me wrong; Chuck’s a great brother, but the name is about where the similarities between me and him begin and end. This lawyer stuff is way over my head.”

“It’s not so bad, really. I’m sure you’ll pick up a thing or two. Everyone always seems a little daunted at first.” Kim smiled reassuringly, pointing to her open book. “I’m actually a law student. At UNM. The firm is- _very generously_ , I should add- covering my expenses.”

“Future lawyer, huh? So one of these days, it’s gonna be _your_ name up on the sign.”

“Well, it’s probably not a good idea to try and predict the future,” Kim snickered. “But… hell, yeah.”

“Hell, yeah!” Jimmy exclaimed with a clap. “That’s a winner’s attitude.”

“Yeah, well. It takes more than attitude.” She sighed quietly. “Takes a lot of lunch breaks.”

“I can…” Jimmy’s smile faded slightly. “…Uh, right. I can imagine. For sure.” He clenched a fist in front of him. “…And… for that reason, I will not take up any more of your time.”

“Sorry.” She smiled at him again. “I’ll see you around, Jimmy.”

“No worries! See you around.”

Jimmy thrust himself off the table and threw both hands into the air, strolling back to his seat and earning another chuckle from Kim.

He muttered under his breath. “Wexler. Wexler.”

“What are you doing?” Ernie asked as Jimmy slumped back into his seat.

“Making lemonade,” he replied smoothly.

Ernie frowned cluelessly.

With a self-assured nod, and a moment of thought, Jimmy added, “What’s the difference between a lawyer and a vulture?”

* * *

Chuck emerged from the building five minutes late, only to find Jimmy leaning on the hood of his car with a two-finger salute above his head.

He tried not to groan audibly. “There you are, Jimmy.”

“How’s it going, Chuck?” Jimmy pushed himself off the hood and looped around to get in the passenger seat.

Chuck took his time unlocking the door. “Please tell me you’re getting a car soon.”

“Soon as soon gets. I swear. This weekend at the absolute latest. I’m just putting a little money together.” Jimmy settled into the leather seat of Chuck’s car, resisting the urge to prop his feet up beneath the windshield. “But hey. You’re my ride to the dealership, buddy.”

“I would just like to be done with this quickly. I can’t be responsible for all your transportation.”

“This weekend at the _latest_. I swear, Chuck.”

“All right.” Chuck pursed his lips as he pulled the car out of the parking lot. “And I don’t want to have to wait for you in the car tomorrow morning like I did today. You should have your tie tied before I get there, okay?”

“Okay. Got it. I can tie a tie. I swear.”

“Well, just because you can do it doesn’t mean you can do it _properly_.”

“Fair enough. Fair enough. I’ll admit, I’m a little out of my element. But I’m doing the best I can, I promise.”

“I believe you.” Chuck glanced over at his brother. “Howard said he spoke with you after I left this morning. He certainly seemed to think you made a good impression.”

“Oh yeah? That’s good. He seems like a nice guy,” Jimmy said noncommittally.

“He is. And I appreciate you taking what I said to heart, about professionalism.” Chuck drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “How was your first day in the mailroom?”

“Great- Chuck, I gotta say. Great. And not just because I appreciate you giving me a shot there- which I do, of course! But I really think I’m getting the hang of it already. I learned a ton of names upstairs. And I met a lot of people in the mailroom, too. Gotta say, it’s a real tight-knit community. Like blood brothers down there.”

“Hm. I’m glad to hear it.” Chuck considered for a second or two, a small frown slowly creeping on his face. “And… you get along with them? In the mailroom?”

“Sure. These are my kind of people.” Jimmy thought about it a little more. “At least. I think I can get a grip on them.”

Chuck nodded slowly. “Right… good to hear it, Jimmy…”

* * *

The whole room shook when Jimmy slammed the door behind him, though to be fair the whole place could barely match the leg room in Chuck’s back seat.

He kicked his shoes off by the door and stalked through the hotel room, immediately making his way to the bed in the center, tossing his tie over the foot of the bed, and collapsing onto the sheets. A vent rumbled loudly above his head, working overtime to keep the place cool. Mostly unsuccessfully.

The Albuquerque sun was broiling the entire place from top to bottom.

“Holy Christ,” Jimmy groaned.

Without getting up, he reached for the bedside table and pulled open the top drawer, retrieving a lukewarm bottle of Scotch and a cheap plastic cup. The booze didn’t help with the exhaustion or the heat, but at least it could help him pass out quicker, Jimmy figured. Whether that made it worth raiding the minibar was a separate issue, one he didn’t have the energy to worry about.

Jimmy stared at the sweat-stained tie hanging off his bed frame, took a swig of Scotch, and furrowed his brow. Something still wasn’t quite sitting right with him.

Sitting up straight, Jimmy reached over the table and grabbed the base of his telephone, which he pulled in toward his lap. Setting the handset between his shoulder and his ear, he dialed on the base with one hand, still holding his Scotch in the other.

The phone rang five times and then went to voicemail.

“Excuse me, is this the Pasternak household?” Jimmy asked politely, putting on a fake Southern accent. “My name is McGill; I’m calling from the Kansas Bible Company. Having heard nothing from the patriarch of the household, well, I can only assume that he must have passed on and left behind his belongings to his busty and… probably experimental, Cindy Crawford-esque bride, to whom I must tragically speak. You see, Mr. Pasternak placed an order before his passing for this lovely gold-trimmed bible, and being the household of piety and conviction that I’m sure you are, I would be remiss if I didn’t make you aware of the offer. Now, of course, I would be glad to simply return Mr. Pasternak’s $1 deposit, but being the good Christian that I am, I simply have to do you the kindness of offering you the bible in his place, for the reduced price of- let’s say just $200 in a lump sum payment. Surely the deceased would want you to have it.” Jimmy lowered the phone from his ear for a second, polishing off his drink and taking a deep breath before speaking into the receiver again. “…Ahem. So, if you would, kindly call me back at your earliest convenience. I am _confident_ that you would not be disappointed.” Jimmy cleared his throat, dropping the accent. “ _Call_ me, man. C’mon.”

He hung up, setting down his plastic cup on the table and standing from the bed on the floor. Resting a hand on his mattress, Jimmy walked to the other end of the bed and kneaded his tie between his fingers, a scowl now plastered on his face.

He stared out the window at the parking lot. A dozen cars lay baking in the desert sun. Jimmy tugged on his collar- so damn hot.

With an audible sigh, he looked down at the phone, which had yet to ring despite what was now three messages asking for a response.

He gritted his teeth.

Time to grow up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kim said she watched To Kill a Mockingbird when she was growing up and wanted to be Atticus Finch.  
> I like to think Jimmy watched Paper Moon.
> 
> Frankly, I'm pretty much terrified to write about Better Call Saul and invite the comparison to such a masterfully written show. But I just can't get enough of this universe or its characters. I hope the story seems promising so far- I'm looking forward to working on it.  
> And thanks again for reading!


	2. Fracture

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a few revisions to the first chapter to align as closely with canon as I can, given that Jimmy explains in the opening of Rebecca (S2E05) that he's staying at the Ramada before he gets a place of his own.  
> Thanks for reading!

The door to Arno’s swung open, letting a flurry of snow blow in on a gust of freezing wind. Through it strolled a nearly-frostbitten Slippin' Jimmy, bundled up in a lime-green alpine jacket and moving with a self-important swagger.

He gestured to the man sitting in the booth nearest the door, brushing snow out of his long hair. “Earl.”

“What’s up, Jimmy?”

Jimmy took the long way around to the bar, high-fiving another one of the patrons on the way over.

“Hey, Jimmy!” the man said with a grin.

“How’s it going, Bud?”

Flashing a handsome smile, Jimmy waved a hand to two girls sitting together in a booth, though he didn’t stop there.

“Ladies.”

“Hi, Jimmy,” they replied in unison.

The pair chattered about him as he slid into his bar stool, one seat over from Marco.

Jimmy raised a hand to the bartender. “Old Style, Merna?”

“Sure thing, Jimmy.” She smiled at him, reaching under the bar to open him a beer.

He drummed his fingers over it. “Hey, how’s your ex-husband?”

“Still a scumbag.”

“I hear that.” Jimmy took a drink and then reached into the pocket of his jacket, setting his wallet on the counter. Fishing through it with one hand, he sifted through fifty dollar bills and folded a few of them, sliding them forward. “Alright. This is for the house.” He pulled out one more and passed it directly to her. “And this is for you.”

“God bless you.” Grinning, Merna tucked the bill into the pocket of her apron, then rested a hand on the counter and called out, “Hey, everyone! Next round is on Slippin’ Jimmy!”

The bar erupted in cheers.

“Jimmy, you piece’a crap,” said Marco, patting Jimmy on the shoulder. “Where the hell were you yesterday?”

Jimmy looked at the ceiling as he took another drink. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

“Ah. Son of a bitch. That’s twice now you hit the strip club without me. You’re toyin’ with my emotions here.”

“I thought your cousin died.”

“Yeah, and you’re living it up while I’m stuck standing around at a funeral? Not cool.”

“I’ll let you know next time, promise.”

Smirking, Jimmy reached into his jacket again, this time pulling out a stack of bills bound with a rubber band.

He tossed it onto the counter in front of Marco, who scoffed. “…The hell’s this for?”

Jimmy shot him a look. “What do you think it’s for? It’s your half.”

“You serious?” Marco was wide-eyed, sifting through the bills with both hands. “…Jesus, Jimmy, there’s gotta be over two thousand bucks here.”

“Two-thousand, three hundred and eighty-six. That’s twenty-five hundred, minus one urgent care visit.” Jimmy pulled back the sleeve of his jacket over his right arm, which was wrapped in a white forearm cast. “Wrist fracture. We agreed; medical costs come out of your end. And let me tell you- I suffered for this one. Thing hurts like a bitch.”

“Fair enough. Tsch. You’re a fuckin’ miracle worker.”

Merna shot Jimmy a disapproving look. “You really gotta get health insurance.”

“Ha!” Jimmy threw his head back, swirling his beer around in his hand. “Yeah, that’ll be the day, huh?”

Marco snickered. “Five grand. That’s nuts… _nice_ work, Jimmy, seriously.” He tucked the cash into his own jacket, shaking his head with disbelief. “I knew that guy was a sucker, but Jesus. It was the hooker; I think he was paranoid about the cops gettin’ involved.”

“Definitely paranoid. But she wasn’t a hooker. She’d have run if she was. I’m thinking he didn’t want to have to admit to her he’d have to call his wife.”

“You mean the money’s from one fall?” Merna leaned into the counter with a scoff. “Geez, who’d you hit, Jimmy? Warren Buffet?”

Jimmy waved her off. “What, you kidding? This is nothing. Two years ago, I made off with eight grand from a fall on Michigan Avenue. You don’t remember?”

“Lightning in a bottle,” said Marco.

“Bullshit. That was the magic touch, is what that was.”

“So what’s your story, Jimmy?” asked Merna. “How’d you pull this one off?”

Jimmy waved her off. “Ah…”

“Hey, c’mon, Jimmy.” Bud, listening in on the conversation, pulled up a chair near them and rested his elbows on his knees. “You’ve always got a story.”

A crowd of bar patrons was forming around Jimmy, and he chuckled confidently as he looked around at them.

“Alright, alright. Let me paint the picture here.” Jimmy scratched his chin, sliding around in his stool and leaning an elbow back on the counter. “Indiana Avenue. Sharp left turn by the pizzeria. Swear to god, there’s a patch of ice off the curb there an inch and a half thick, maybe thicker. This fifty-something accountant, midlife crisis type, with the tweed jacket and the Groucho Marx glasses, he comes rolling down around the corner with this blonde chick half his age in the passenger seat. He’s riding so close to the curb, I only need to take one step out on that ice and I roll over the hood, crack the windshield- and the ice goes on so far, I slide for five feet on the ground afterward. Landed on my right arm, hence the…”

Marco raised his bottle. “He nails the timing. Few seconds not movin’, letting the dipshit take it all in, then he does this leg twitch. Cries out like a dying dog.”

“I’m talking drool, leg twitch, all of it. And Marco’s right across the street, and soon as that car stops, he’s all over it; making a fuss, talking about calling the cops.”

Marco pointed to Jimmy’s leg. “Show ‘em the twitch. They gotta see it.”

“Nah. I can’t sell it without the proper context. You had to have been there. But trust me. This guy sees me with my face on the asphalt. Head bent sideways. The leg twitch. And he’s thinking, what? Coma? Head trauma? He’s thinking _prison time_. And Marco’s across the street. He’s yelling and screaming. Saying he’ll call the cops. So what does our genius do?”

“-He fuckin’ floors it,” Marco cut in.

Jimmy jabbed a finger in his direction to affirm. “He _floors_ it. Really floors it. Seventy, maybe _eighty_ miles an hour. It’s a wonder he didn’t hit someone for real considering the weather out there. I’m barely able to get in the car before Marco’s got us following him around a corner, down for five blocks. Ran a red light.”

Bud chuckled. “Hit and run…”

“It was textbook,” said Jimmy, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “We tailed him all the way to a strip mall in the Near West Side. Marco’s helping me walk, and the guy loses his shit the minute he sees us. We cornered him outside a Carson Pirie Scott. I swear he thought I was dead. Marco’s red in the face. He’s already memorized the guy’s license plate. His girlfriend wants to go the hell home. This guy is _this_ close to a panic attack.”

“Yeah, yeah, and meanwhile, Jimmy is going like a machine gun,” Marco cut in. “Spitting penal code. Callin’ it a class-whatever felony.”

“Class 4 felony,” said Jimmy.

“Yeah, yeah. May as well be speakin’ Swahili, but the guy is clearly pissing his pants. By this point I think he’s gonna try and run, so I start tearin’ it for the phone booth a block down. Sayin’ I’m gonna call the cops.”

Jimmy laughed out loud. “Seriously. You gotta see him when he gets going. I mean it; this fat motherfucker belongs on a Wheaties box.” Earning a chuckle from the crowd, Jimmy smirked and smacked his lips, finger tapping on the bottle in his hand. “So anyway, with Marco putting the heat on, I got the guy to walk me over to the ATM _personally_. Five thousand to keep the cops out of it. And _this_. For my emotional distress.”

Resting his elbow on the counter, Jimmy pulled down the sleeve over his left wrist, revealing a sleek silver watch with a black dial.

Marco scratched his chin. “What is that?”

“It’s a Movado.” Jimmy tapped on it with a proud grin. “Guy at the pawn shop yesterday told me it was worth six-fifty, maybe seven hundred bucks.”

“Damn. Nice haul.”

“I’ll pay you the three fifty for it if you want. But… I think I’m gonna hang onto it.” Jimmy twisted his wrist around to admire it. “It’s like a souvenir, or something. Looks good.”

“Nah, keep it. You earned it.”

“Heh.”

“Jimmy…” Marco slid forward on his bar stool, glancing at the crowd surrounding his friend, before turning to him and patting him on the shoulder. “You are the _man_.”

* * *

The alarm clock next to Jimmy’s ear had been buzzing for the better part of ten minutes before he remembered what it was waking him up for. A clenched fist silenced it.

Fingers pressed against the bridge of his nose, Jimmy pushed the clock away and immediately knocked over a half-full plastic cup, knocking it off the bedside table and spilling alcohol all over the carpet. That made three mornings in a row.

“God _dammit_ ; son of a… agh…”

The stain was beyond saving. Jimmy just swung his feet off the bed and stepped around.

He lurched into the bathroom, shoving his toothbrush into his mouth and dabbing his hair with water at the same time. He barely had time to cleanse the smell of booze in the shower, but the mirror ended up foggy anyway, making it impossible to see what he was doing as he combed his hair out.

By the time Jimmy had slipped into a new pair of boxer shorts and stuffed himself into his work clothes, he was running nearly twenty minutes late.

He put on his tie with one hand, digging through the top drawer of the dresser with the other. From it he pulled two watches- one hidden in a small box and gift-wrapped. The other went straight on his wrist.

Jimmy made the rounds through the hotel room. Brown bag lunch out of the mini fridge. Pocket comb from the bathroom. VHS tape off the top of the dresser. Before he left, he spritzed his neck with a bit of cologne he’d bought at the dollar store.

And then he was out the door. Past the parking lot. To the bus stop two blocks down.

The sun was already blazing, and it was barely even 9 AM. Jimmy wiped sweat off his brow.

He almost missed the bus. The man he sat next to in the back smelled like beer cheese. Jimmy hugged his lunch to his chest for fear of having it stolen.

HHM was another two blocks from the bus stop.

Jimmy scurried through the entrance, underarms soaked with sweat, at 9:30 sharp. In other words, half an hour late.

And he put a smile his face.

A stout, blonde woman in a pantsuit crossed by him on her way up the stairs, and he immediately flipped around to walk backwards while he spoke to her.

“Good morning, Jimmy!”

“Morning, Karen!” He pointed to her encouragingly. “Hey, good luck today!”

“Thanks!”

“You’re gonna nail it!”

Jimmy chuckled to himself and flipped around again, hurrying through the lobby to close in on reception.

“Diane!” he exclaimed. “Diane, Diane, Diane.”

Diane looked up immediately. “Morning, Jimmy!”

“Good morning to you.” He drummed his fingers on the counter. “So, I… have got something for you.”

“Oh, I- is that so?”

“It is so.” With a flourish, he raised his hand from under the counter to reveal the VHS tape he’d carried in. ‘ _Cheers_ ’ was emblazoned proudly across the top. “This is the complete season 1. I want it back when you’re done, alright? It’s part of a box set."

He slid it across the counter to Diane, who picked it up with one hand and scanned the front.

“Wow… thanks, Jimmy! I’ll have to get started on this tonight…”

“Thank me later, okay? Heh.”

“Yeah… oh!” She pursed her lips apologetically, glancing over her shoulder. “Hey, you probably shouldn’t hang around talking to me this morning. You’re, uh… I think running a little late.”

“I got it. Thanks for the heads-up, Diane.” He patted a hand on the desk, thinking for one more moment before heading out. “Hey, if you see Dan, wish him luck at his conference for me. I know he won’t be in his office.”

“Will do. See ya, Jimmy!”

“Have a good one!”

He kept the bounce in his step all the way to the elevator, through the dim basement, around the first left at the end of the hall.

His first stop was the fridge. And he almost made it without getting caught coming in late.

“Ernie! Buddy!”

Jimmy flashed a grin at his coworker, who was hovering around the counter as though on lookout.

The two exchanged one uncertain glance.

And Ernie just shrugged. “Hey, Jimmy.”

A little relieved, Jimmy turned away to stuff his lunch into the fridge.

“Hey,” Ernie said with a chuckle, “what do you get when you cross _The Godfather_ with a lawyer?”

“I dunno. Hit me.” Jimmy shut the fridge.

“An offer you can’t _understand_.”

“Ha! I like that. I’m gonna use that.”

The pair walked together through the mailroom, Ernie wringing his hands with a grin.

“Just a heads-up, Jimmy; you’re here a bit later than I think…” Ernie trailed off as he spoke, not wanting to dampen the mood. “…Well, either way, there’s a pile of envelopes here with your name on ‘em.”

“I got it, Ernie. No problem.” Jimmy straightened out his shirt. “This is all me.”

* * *

Jimmy rolled his mail cart down the hallway to his brother’s office, though nearly all the actual mail on it had been delivered, leaving only a letter and manila envelope sitting next to Jimmy’s bagged lunch. He hadn’t eaten all day, even though the afternoon was creeping by him.

He let his mind wander for a while, and pushed the cart with two hands, staring at the floor. He nearly crashed as another mailroom employee turned a corner in front of him.

“Oh!”

She stopped short long before he did, and Jimmy took both hands off his cart, recognizing an acutely familiar face.

“Hey! Wexler!” Jimmy leaned on the wall, waving one hand. “Kim Wexler. We met a few days ago.”

Kim eyed him up for a moment and sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “I remember. Hi, Jimmy.”

“What are you up to?”

She stared at him with a tired expression, then looked over her shoulder, at a few of the offices lining the hall.

“…Well, you know, I was delivering mail. Until a second ago,” Kim said flatly.

Jimmy opened his hands dramatically. “What a coincidence! I was doing the exact same thing. Small world.”

She rolled her eyes, but chuckled anyway.

“I actually saw you at lunch yesterday,” said Jimmy, “but I didn’t want to interrupt; you looked like you might have a heart attack from stress if someone broke your concentration.”

“Yeah, I… sorry. Feel free to say hello. I’ve just been kind of slammed the past week.” She looked at the floor for a second and sighed. “It’s, uh, for moot court; I’ve been trying to prepare an oral argument. An imaginary kid shot two people, and I’m supposed to argue against a life sentence. It’s… a challenge.”

“Well, at least it’s for a noble imaginary cause.” They shared a laugh, and Jimmy continued. “Look, to be honest, it’s just nice to see someone in the mailroom around my own age. I’ve had Ernie teaching me how to use the Xerox machine, and I mean, God, don’t get me wrong; he seems like a good guy, but getting my hand held by a guy who's gotta be barely legal to drink, I mean… I feel like a jackass.”

Kim focused on him for a moment, bright red lips curled into a pleasant smile. “Don’t take it too personally. If it makes you feel better, he’s pretty new, too, so walking you through everything is probably as much for his benefit as…”

Her voice trailed off into a murmur, and her eyes fell a little, focusing somewhere on Jimmy’s collar.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “…What? Am I that boring?”

“No. No. Sorry.” Kim hesitated for a second, then scratched her face and looked him in the eye again. “Your tie looks like it was done by a fifth grader.”

He looked down at himself. “Nah. Trust me, fifth graders have more experience.”

“Okay. Stand still.”

Without warning, Kim marched forward and reached both hands for Jimmy’s tie, while he splayed his arms and shuffled back.

Jimmy clenched a fist. “I- okay.”

“No. Stop- stop squirming.” Kim shot him a look, and he stood still for a moment. She pulled up on the knot to straighten the tie, then took a step back to appraise him. “There. You were making me embarrassed for you.”

“Wow. That’s a morale booster.”

“You’re new. Call it hazing.” She straightened out her skirt and returned to her mail cart, resting on it with both hands. “If it makes you feel better, the watch is a nice touch. Very professional.”

“Oh. …Huh.” He raised his wrist, admiring it. “Uh, thanks.”

She flashed a bright smile, for just a second. “…Okay. I’m gonna get going. I’ll see you around, Jimmy.”

“You do that. I’ll see ya, Kim.”

She wheeled her cart past him, down the hall, and out of sight.

Jimmy gave himself a minute just to take it in. “…Wow.”

Then he headed off the rest of the way down the hall, leaned his ear to the door, and knocked three times on the door to Chuck’s office.

A voice echoed from inside almost immediately. “Yes; come in!”

Jimmy tossed the door open, throwing up both hands as he stepped inside. “Hey, Chuck!”

“Oh.” Chuck, who was hunched over his desk with a salad and a brief, narrowed his eyes at the sight. “Hi, Jimmy; what can I do for you?”

“Got some mail for you.”

“Ah. Thank you; you can just leave it on my desk.”

“Got it.”

Pulling the mail cart through the door, Jimmy grabbed Chuck’s mail and marched up to the desk, setting it down and taking a seat there.

Chuck paused for a moment. “Um, did you need something else…?”

“Yeah. Well, no. Not _need_ , but. I got you something.”

“Oh…?”

With a proud little smile, Jimmy reached into his pocket and pulled out the gift box he’d been carrying around, setting it down on the desk for Chuck to take. “I wanted to say thank you, you know… I mean… with the job, and everything. I figured I should get you something.”

Obviously surprised by the gesture, Chuck reached forward and carefully unwrapped the box, setting on his desk and opening it in front of him. Jimmy had been stripped for cash to begin with, of course, but it didn’t seem like much of an optional expense.

Chuck shook his head with disbelief. “Wow, this… this must have cost you a fortune, Jimmy.”

“Yeah, well. Movado. It’s not exactly a Rolex, but I thought it’d have to at least be nice enough to come _close_ to competing with the rest of your wardrobe, right? Heh.” Jimmy raised his wrist to point to his own watch. “Besides. I’ve got this baby. It’s my favorite watch. So they can be like friendship bracelets. We’re like the Wonder Twins.”

“Right.” Chuck chuckled quietly. “Well. Thank you very much, Jimmy.” He removed his watch to replace it with Jimmy’s, tapping on the dial with one finger. “This is very thoughtful.”

“No problem. I really owe you.” Jimmy rested his hands on his knees, looking over the desk at the paper Chuck had been reviewing. “Hey, you’re on your lunch break, right? Word is you eat late, so I figured I’d bring my lunch up here; we can eat together.”

“Oh. Oh, well…” Chuck frowned distastefully, gesturing to his work. “I’m very busy at the moment, Jimmy. I’m sorry. I really can’t right now.”

“Ah. Yeah. I, uh. I got it, Chuck. No problem.” Jimmy waved his brother off and stood up, rubbing a hand over his wrist. “We… yeah. Maybe another time, then. I’ll see you around!”

Jimmy made it halfway out of the room before Chuck stopped him.

“Oh, Jimmy, alright. Hold up one moment.”

Jimmy pushed the mail cart the rest of the way outside, then took a step back inside, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, sure thing. What is it?”

“Why don’t-? Well… alright. Jimmy.” Chuck looked him up and down, considering. “…Since you haven’t seen the house yet. It really wouldn’t be right for us not to get together. Why don’t you come by the house for dinner on Saturday? Or at least sometime soon. I’d have to make sure it’s alright with Rebecca, and that it works with her schedule, but I think we should.”

“Oh…!” Jimmy scratched his chin. “Uh… yeah! For sure, Chuck! For sure. I’d love to see your palace.” He grinned. “I’ll mark my calendar.”

“Yes, well. We’ll be in touch about that, then. We can sort out an exact time later today. But absolutely. Let’s do that.”

“Great.” Jimmy whipped his hands out of his pockets to fire finger guns. “Till then, Chuck.”

“…Till then, Jimmy.”

Filled with energy, Jimmy wheeled the cart down the hall, whistling the theme from The Third Man.

When he made it back to the mailroom, he ate his lunch alone.


	3. Natural

_the improper ~~investigative conduct~~_

_the ~~improper~~ conduct ~~perpetrated~~ by_

_the misconduct of law enforcement ~~obviously~~_

_demonstrably ~~violates~~ the ~~comprehensive~~_

_demonstrably fails to meet the requisite investigative standards ~~becoming of~~_

_standards necessary for adequate due process ~~expected of~~ the juvenile court_

_mandated for the juvenile court, as outlined in Kent v. U_ \--

“How’s the murderer kid doing?”

A sudden gravelly voice stopped Kim’s pencil short with enough force to tear the page, and she jumped with surprise, whipping her head around and resting a hand over her binder.

Jimmy was leaning into the table where she had been working, looking off into the distance. “He ever gonna see his poor Mom and Pop again?”

“I don’t know yet. I don’t make my argument until next week.” Kim took a long pause before she spoke, then turned back down to her notes, erasing an errant pencil mark. “I’ll keep you posted.”

Jimmy nodded but stuck around, and Kim gave him a long opportunity to say something else before continuing with a sigh.

She sat up. “…Do you need something from me, Jimmy?”

He looked at her with wide eyes and scratched his face with one hand. “Well, no; not you in _particular_.”

He shrugged with no shame, not moving from his spot. Quietly scoffing, Kim looked conspicuously at the work she was obviously in the middle of, then back to Jimmy, demanding an explanation from him without needing to say a word.

“Hey, I’m getting the lay of the land here.” Jimmy defended himself jokingly, gesturing behind him with one hand. “Making the rounds.” He paused to think of the right word. “…Networking.”

“Yeah. Okay. Sure.”

“You _did_ tell me I should feel free to say hello.”

They stared each other down for a second.

“…You didn’t _say_ ‘hello’,” said Kim.

Jimmy almost objected to that, but couldn’t think of anything. “Alright. Touché.”

“And we already know each other. So you can go ‘network’ somewhere else now.”

“Ernie’s sick today!” Jimmy smirked and threw up his hands. “I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

She hesitated for half a second. “Ernie’s not sick; I just talked to him this morning.”

He clicked his tongue. “Busted. But I _am_ bored out of my skull; that much is the truth.”

“…Jimmy, I’m not gonna help you waste time in the middle of a workday. Go deliver mail. I’m on my lunch break.”

“I’m not wasting time! I’m on my break, too. I still have fifteen minutes.”

“So, you’re not wasting _your_ time.”

“Alright! Alright. I’m gone.”

He stood up, stretching his arms in front of him and giving a resigned sigh.

Kim rolled her eyes at him. “Alright. Look. If you want to sit with me, I’m not going to stop you. But it’s not like I can spare my attention. I’m trying to make good use of my time.”

“Deal.” Immediately, he slumped back down onto the bench next to her, resting an elbow on the table behind him. “That’s good enough for me.”

He looked around the room absentmindedly. Kim began writing again.

A minute, maybe a minute and a half, passed in near silence, only punctuated by the sound of a pencil scribbling.

Then Kim looked up at him briefly again. “Your tie looks better, by the way.”

* * *

The copier, supposedly state-of-the-art, took ages to spit out a single piece of paper. At the end of the workday, Jimmy found himself hunched over it waiting for it to spit out thirty-five of them. He could feel his sanity slowly draining as he stared into the little yellow blinking lights.

“Hey, Jimmy. You very busy?”

Jimmy stood up sharply, turning to face his savior. “God, no. What’s up, Ernie?”

“Uh.” Ernie cupped his hands. “Well, it’s Friday night and all. I thought I’d ask if you wanted to come grab a beer with some of the crew from the mailroom. It’s, like, sort of a weekly tradition around here.”

“Yes. Absolutely. Please.” Jimmy glanced over his shoulder at the Xerox machine. “Who all’s coming?”

“Me, Gil, Burt… and Donna. I think Lauren said she might show up later. She usually doesn’t, though.”

Cracking his neck, Jimmy turned back around, biting his bottom lip. One door over, separated by a wall of glass, Kim was in the middle of work of her own, sealing packages.

He put his hands on his hips. “Not Kim?”

“Nah.” Ernie adjusted his glasses, looking back over his shoulder at Kim. “She keeps herself pretty busy. And I think she gets up early on the weekends. She usually hangs around here.”

“Alright.” Jimmy gritted his teeth, nodding slowly as he considered it. “I’ve got a couple more things to print. I’ll catch up with you guys in a few minutes.”

“Sure thing. We’re just gonna be hanging around down in the parking lot.”

“See you guys down there.”

Jimmy patted Ernie on the shoulder as he left.

The copier whirred loudly behind him, like it was fighting desperately for its life. Jimmy didn’t bother to wait around for it.

“Hey,” he declared loudly, swinging open the door and waving a hand to Kim.

She only looked up at him briefly. “Hey.”

“Some guys from the mailroom are heading out to grab a beer.”

“Yeah. I can’t; sorry,” Kim said with a tiny frown, sealing a package on the counter.

“Let me guess. Slammed with work?”

“…How’d you guess…?”

“Geez. What a life. You’re like John Henry.” He leaned on the counter next to her. “What do you do on the weekends? You running for office?”

She finally stopped working for a second, turning to look him in the eye. “…I go to class on the weekends.”

“Ha! Right.”

“I’m not kidding.”

Jimmy processed that for a second, and his amused smile faded, his head tilting like a puppy’s.

Kim gave a curt, humorless laugh. “Jimmy, I work full time. When did you think I would be going to law school?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged with both hands. “Evenings?”

She pursed her lips. “Well, yeah. I do that, too.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I wish.”

Nodding to himself, Jimmy looked around at a few of the copiers and found his grin again. “So how long do you give it before you end up like Jack Nicholson in _The Shining_?”

“Alright. Jimmy.” She patted both hands on the counter, standing up straight for emphasis. “Thank you for trying to include me. Okay? But I’m busy. So… go have fun without me.” She waved him off with the back of her hand, smiling. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Okay! Fair enough,” said Jimmy, throwing up his hands. “But let me tell you what’s gonna happen: tomorrow, you are going to wake up with your face buried in a book. You’re gonna be wearing the same clothes you’re wearing now. You’re not gonna remember a thing you did in the two hours before you passed out. And when that happens, you’re gonna be thinking, ‘gee, I could have gone out last night, and I’d be in exactly the same position right now’.”

Kim stared at him with disbelief. “…You really don’t quit, do you?”

“Call me the Little Engine That Could.”

The two of them stared each other down.

* * *

“I’m not _saying_ it’s a bad movie. I’m just saying the change from the first one is too drastic. It’s, like, a totally different thing.” Ernie spoke to a crowded table of his coworkers, clutching a bottle in one hand.

“I don’t care _what_ you’re saying,” retorted Donna. “Many would argue it’s better than the original. You are talking about the best film of the last decade here.”

Jimmy, the loudest one at the table, did not even attempt to suppress a scoff. “Okay, hold on! I gotta interject here, because it sounds like you’re saying _Aliens_ is better than _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ , and I _know_ that can’t be what you’re saying.”

“Honestly, what’s so great about _Raiders of the Lost Ark_?” Donna shrugged noncommittally.

“What’s so great about-? What, are you serious? Someone back me up here.” Jimmy jabbed a finger across the booth. “Kim.”

He exchanged a sudden glance with her, and she chuckled, raising a bottle to her lips. “Yeah, no; I’m gonna abstain from this debate.”

“Agh! Coward!”

“You’re both wrong, anyway,” said Ernie. “ _The Princess Bride_ is better than either of those.”

“Okay, I take it back!” Kim cut in excitedly. “Ernie is right.”

“You people have no taste. You hear me? _None_.” Jimmy took a sip of his beer and suddenly scrunched his face, put off by something. “Hey, can I ask you guys something? How do you do this crap every week? Because- and take this out of context all you like- but my tongue has been rubbed freakin’ raw this past week.”

Everyone stared at him with confusion, but Kim was the first to speak up, laughing at him outright. “…’Take this out of’-? Jimmy, how are we supposed to not take that out of context? What is the _context_? Why would your tongue be rubbed raw?”

Jimmy narrowed his eyes at her with disbelief, then looked around the others in the crowd, most of whom just shrugged with comparable confusion. “What do you think…? Stamps! I must have licked half a million of ‘em.”

He shrugged at them, and the whole table went quiet for a second before erupting with laughter. Kim was the loudest, and she seemed surprisingly comfortable with it, rocking back in her seat.

Gil chuckled at Kim and then pointed his bottle toward Jimmy, throwing up his other hand. “There’s a sponge, dude.”

“What?” Jimmy turned his head sharply. “A sponge? Huh?”

“You didn’t see the little blue bottle in the cabinet?” asked Ernie with a massive grin. “With the sponge on the top? It’s for moisturizing the stamps, Jimmy.”

Jimmy opened and closed his mouth, thinking back. “I…” He stuck his tongue out, poking it with his finger. “…Well, now I just feel like an idiot.”

“This just made my day,” Burt laughed.

“Yeah. I’m glad,” Jimmy said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Because it’s gonna make me look like a moron in front of Chuck.”

“Oh, damn! You’re Chuck’s little brother! I almost forgot. That’s cool.” Burt sat up in the booth. “What’s he like? Like, off the clock? No offense, of course, but at the office he always seems like he’s in lawyer mode 24/7.”

“What’s he like?” Jimmy thought about it for a few seconds, struggling to find a good answer. “Oh, geez. Pretty much exactly how you’d expect. He drinks red wine. He plays the piano. When we were kids, he read the bar journal for fun; imagine that.” Jimmy was smiling fondly. “He’s a real natural. You can just tell this place is right where he belongs. Helping people.”

“So you grew up with the ‘McGill’ in Hamlin, Hamlin, McGill,” Donna said curiously. “There’s got to be a story there.”

“God…” Jimmy murmured, pressing two fingers to his temple. “Where to even begin…?”

* * *

“Okay, okay, Jimmy, you’re going a mile a minute like everybody knows what you’re talking about.” Kim interrupted him loudly, an amused smile plastered to her face. “We’re not all savvy to your… obscure street lingo.”

“It’s _not_ obscure,” Jimmy said firmly. “I’m _telling_ you, I don’t know what it’s called here in New Mexico, but it’s _not_ obscure.”

“Okay! But that doesn’t clear up anything! I mean, am I crazy here?” Laughing out loud and swaying her beer around in her hand, Kim gestured to Ernie, who gave a mystified shrug. “What-? I mean, okay, obviously, it has something to do with sunroofs, but beyond that, I’m honestly…”

“Alright. I’m _not_ proud of this.”

“You said that.”

“I just- I.” Jimmy pointed a finger around the crowd with a severe glare. “This can’t leave this room, alright? And I don’t mean because I’m embarrassed- I mean, I _am_ embarrassed. But more than that, I just don’t want it spreading around. If Chuck finds out I’m telling people about this, he’s gonna think I’m not taking it seriously. And I _am_.”

“For God’s sake, Jimmy,” interjected Burt, taking a swig of beer, “at this point, you’ve built it up so much; there’s no way it could possibly…”

“I took a dump through the sunroof, alright? The sunroof of his car. I took a dump through the open sunroof.” Jimmy groaned at the sound of his own voice. “And like I said, Chet was a fuckin’ prick, alright? I’m not saying he deserved it, but he was a _prick_. And, yeah, I may not have been the best husband on the planet, but that gave him no right to…”

Kim almost burst out laughing. “…What, really? _That’s_ what you did?”

Jimmy pouted defensively. “Wha- yeah, I- _yes_ , that’s what I did…!”

“But.” Kim glanced over her shoulder, grin finally dying down. “I mean. Yeah, it’s really _gross_ , Jimmy, and super tasteless and all, but you’re talking it up like you killed somebody. Honestly… what is that, like a petty misdemeanor? Disorderly conduct? $200 fine? What, was it parked in his driveway? Did they get you for trespassing or something?”

“It was outside a Dairy Queen.” Jimmy looked up with obvious hesitation, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek. “And his kids were in the back seat.”

That one silenced the crowd, giving him time to wallow in his own discomfort.

“I mean, I didn’t know, obviously,” Jimmy mumbled with embarrassment, just to break the silence. “The… the windows were tinted, and you couldn’t… that was bullshit, because I couldn’t tell what was…”

Kim, wide-eyed alongside everyone else at the table, pursed her lips as she tried to think of a decent response to that. “…Good Lord.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy’s finger traced around the rim of his bottle, his face sinking. Voice low, and even more gravelly than usually, he mumbled, “…Chuck really saved my ass…”

Everyone remained quiet. The mood had been killed, about as violently and inhumanely as possible.

Jimmy felt everyone’s eyes boring into him, and he kept his head low, drumming one finger. “Uh. He invited me to dinner tomorrow. Him and his wife, this… I guess she’s some kinda crazy talented violinist. And it’s like; I’m this dirtbag that just climbed out of the scummiest hole in the ground on Earth. Chuck, he got the hell out as a kid, and I just… stayed. I didn’t care. You know? And I just never _cared_ , for all this time. While he was out here in Albuquerque doing shit with his life.” Jimmy looked up from the table with an ashamed frown on his face, briefly making eye contact with the people across the table. “And now I’m here, and I’ve got to… I mean, I want him to respect me, you know? But I gotta earn it. I know that. I don’t really deserve it. But I’m trying.”

Ernie sucked in his breath, making a faint but sympathetic smile. “I mean… you’re trying to make things right. That’s… I think that’s something to be proud of, Jimmy.”

“…Thanks, Ernie.”

Jimmy rubbed his wrist with one hand, flashing him a melancholy smile.

Another pregnant pause.

“ _The Empire Strikes Back_ ,” said Ernie suddenly.

“Huh?”

Ernie turned in his seat from Jimmy, picking up his bottle and pointing it around. “If we’re talking about the best of the best from the last decade. _The Empire Strikes Back_.”

Everyone paused for about a second… then the table exploded with conversation again.

* * *

Kim was the last one hanging around in the bar at the end of the night.

Jimmy wasn’t far ahead- Ernie was his ride, since he still didn’t have a car.

Almost nobody was left in the building, and the bartender was left polishing glasses behind the counter. The dim lights cast a dreary orange glow over the whole place.

Kim hurried to pull cash out of her purse to leave a tip, scurrying to catch up to Jimmy before he followed Ernie outside.

“Hey! Jimmy.”

He stopped with one hand against the door, and she let her hands hang at her sides uncertainly.

“Yeah?” asked Jimmy. “…Need something? Or did you just want me to hold the door?”

She clenched a fist, looking him up and down. “No, just.” It took her a second to figure out exactly what it was. “Just… good luck.” She closed her eyes momentarily. “Seriously.”

“Mm.” He clicked his tongue. “Uh, thanks, Kim.”

“…I’ll see you around.”

“See ya.”

He let the door shut behind him.

She stood there for a while afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to write decent legal speech is exhausting.
> 
> Trying to only reference case law relevant in the early 1990s is just exasperating :P


	4. Change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter follows the cold open flashback from S2E05 (Rebecca).

“Ron! Hanging in there?”

“Sure am. Thanks, Jimmy.”

“Take care.”

Jimmy was old hat at pushing the mail carts around, and had multiple routes for getting from cubicle to cubicle as efficiently as possible. And yet, he still managed to be one of the least efficient mailroom workers at it, given the time he spent making chitchat at every available opportunity. It was a worthy trade-off to build morale, or so he would argue if anyone asked.

Kicking up dust on the carpet, Jimmy closed in on the lion’s den at the end of the hall, waving to the secretary, but hesitating outside the office door for a minute before knocking.

Hamlin’s enthusiastic voice bellowed from inside. “It’s open!”

“Hello?” Jimmy opened the door gently, lifting Howard’s mail off the cart and stepping inside. “Is this a good time…?”

Howard looked up from his desk and widened his eyes for half a second, smiling. “Yes! Come in, Jimmy.”

“Got a delivery for ya.”

Standing from his desk, Howard closed in on Jimmy, who waved the mail in his hand.

Jimmy read the back of one of the envelopes and then extended his arm to offer them. “You’ve got a total of three letters from one Mr. Eric Isaacson, and, uh, just between you and me-” he covered his mouth with one hand, fake-whispering- “-I think he likes you.”

“Well, considering he and his family’s estate are shaping up to be a major potential client, I should certainly hope so.” Howard took the letters from Jimmy and sifted through them, nodding approvingly. “Thanks, Jimmy.”

“No problem, Mr. Hamlin.”

Jimmy turned to leave, and Howard set his mail down on his desk, walking back around to take a seat.

“Say, Jimmy,” he said, almost as an afterthought, “how long have you been here, now? It’s closing in on a month now, isn’t that right?”

Jimmy turned sheepishly. “Uh, yeah; one month to the day, actually.”

“How about that?” Howard nodded with a smile, raising one hand to gesture to the set of chairs facing his desk. “Why don’t you have a seat for a second?”

“Aw, shit. I screwed something up, didn’t I…?”

“No, no! Don’t worry; you’re not in trouble. I just think it would be a good idea to touch base, and I have a moment to spare for it.”

Jimmy eyed Hamlin up suspiciously, but of course ultimately had no choice, and so dragged his feet over to the desk, settling in with visible discomfort.

“Alright.” Jimmy slumped into his seat. “I’ll just, uh…”

“Let’s just chat for a minute. Okay?” Howard adjusted the cuffs of his suit, not breaking his eye contact. “How do you like Albuquerque so far?”

“Oh? Uh… it’s great. Yeah.” Jimmy scratched the back of his head. “Chuck helped me find a place with a pool, so I’m, heh, workin’ on a tan. Still settling in to the new digs and all. It’s a change for me. But everything’s out of the boxes, so that’s the important thing.”

“Sure, sure. New job, new home, new everything. It must be a big transition for you.”

“It is. Believe me, it is.”

“Do you feel like you’ve got the hang of the mailroom? I understand there are a lot of moving parts.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure, but, y’know. I’m not gonna sit here and complain that I can’t keep track of all the herbs and spices when I’m talking to Colonel flippin’ Sanders. I’ve got everything under control.”

Howard smirked at the colorful analogy. “I’m glad to hear you say that. I like your attitude, Jimmy.”

Jimmy smiled nervously, hands folded on his lap. “Thanks, I… uh… look, Mr. Hamlin, I just want to say. I… I know you took a flier on me, and I’m grateful for that.” He looked over his shoulder. “Chuck stuck his neck out for me, and you guys would have had every reason- I mean, justifiably- to turn me down. I know what kind of opportunity this is, and I… right now, I’m just focused on hunkering down and making sure it pays off. For me, and for Chuck, and for the firm.” He took a deep breath. “I’m just trying to do a good job.”

“Jimmy.” Howard rested both palms on his desk, leaning forward. “You can relax. Take a breath. I believe you.”

Jimmy nodded slowly a few times. “Thanks. Uh… thanks, Mr. Hamlin.”

“You don’t have to thank me. Just stick to your guns. Stay focused.”

“I will. I swear, I will.”

“Keep up the good work.”

Jimmy stood to leave, giving an impressive handshake.

* * *

Quiet jazz piano echoed through the speakers of a swanky restaurant in a downtown high rise, lined with glass walls and more filled with businessmen than ordinary customers.

Chuck and Howard sat together at a table, having just said their goodbyes to Eric and Julianne Isaacson. Chuck picked up the bill, while Howard leaned back with a drink and took in the ambience.

“What’s the damage?” asked Howard with a chuckle, setting down his glass.

“Four hundred and change,” Chuck replied. “You have to hand it to those two; they certainly know how to take full advantage…”

“I meant it when I said I would be happy to cover it.”

“Don’t be polite, Howard. It’s not a competition.”

“I just wanted to offer again.”

Chuck shook his head as he scribbled in the checkbook, leaving Howard to think about it.

“So, I sat down with Jimmy today,” he commented, staring out over the restaurant patrons.

“Oh, did you?” Chuck didn’t look up. “You didn’t have to reprimand him, did you?”

“No, no. I just wanted to check in. I think he’s been settling in to the mailroom nicely.”

“So he’s been saying. It’s a big change of pace for him.”

“It seems like it.” Howard scratched his chin, turning his head to look at Chuck. “He said you helped him find somewhere to live. Has he given you any trouble?”

“Not much to speak of, no. He has… somewhat particular tastes, but he has been trying to be accommodating.” Chuck closed the checkbook and pushed it toward the center of the table.

“He seems to get along well with everyone. He’s pretty popular in the mailroom, as I understand.”

“I’ve heard murmurings to that effect, myself.”

Howard nodded contemplatively at that. “So… I guess I should be comfortable saying we have passed the trial period with him?”

“Mm.” Chuck looked at the wall.

“You think I’m being too hasty?”

“No, I…” Chuck trailed off. “…What did you talk to him about today?”

“Just his comfort at work. And how he’s settling in.” Howard gestured with one hand. “I’ve been compassionate but straightforward. Just as you suggested. He told me he was grateful for the opportunity.”

“Yes, well, that doesn’t surprise me.”

“You think he’s being insincere.”

“I didn’t say that. I just…” Chuck rested his elbows on the table, fingertips drumming together. “Jimmy tends to make good first impressions. That’s all. It’s not necessarily an indication of what’s to come. I just advise that we remain cautiously optimistic.”

“With ‘caution’ being the operative word.”

Chuck raised a hand in protest, but changed his mind about saying anything. The waiter came to collect the check, and Chuck thanked him politely, still considering his response to Howard.

Eventually, he leaned into the table, and said, “He’s a hard worker. And he can be proactive. I don’t mean to say we shouldn’t be encouraging that.” He sighed through gritted teeth. “But… just remember, you have only seen one side of him.”

* * *

That night found Jimmy up late in the mailroom, surrounding by flashing lights and unnecessarily loud electronics. In his boredom, his pace had stagnated almost to the point of standing still in the middle of the room, staring into the carpet.

He was alone in the basement with Kim, who was shuffling around much more energetically on the other side of the glass wall. Eventually he gave up any pretense of trying to work and just leaned on the counter, watching her absentmindedly through the window.

It did not take long for her to spot him doing this, but he didn’t bother to act embarrassed when she glared at him.

Sighing inaudibly, Kim waved him over, then returned to work.

“Jimmy,” she asked as soon as the door opened, “if you’re not going to do any work anyway, then why would you bother hanging around so late?”

“It’s a psychological thing. This place is so boring and lifeless that it’s going to trick me into thinking sorting papers is interesting.”

“And that’s why you’re watching me?”

Jimmy barely hesitated. “I have no rebuttal.”

Obviously not surprised, she nodded once and continued working, pursing her lips.

“You still don’t have a car?” she asked quietly.

“I’m working on it,” he replied with a shrug.

She aligned a stack of papers and then turned to look him over, frowning. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll give you a lift home.”

“Thanks.”

She smiled briefly and continued to work, preoccupied with her papers. Jimmy settled in against a copier on the opposite side of her.

“Jimmy, can I ask you something?” Kim asked after a few minutes, not looking up.

He groaned loudly in anticipation. “Shoot.”

“How much did you spend on that watch you bought Chuck?”

“Five hundred bucks.”

She sighed, setting her stack of papers into a mail tray. “You spent five hundred bucks on a _wrist watch_ , and yet you’re riding the bus to work every day.”

“Hey. I had to get him something. With what Chuck is doing for me? C’mon, what kind of asshole would I have to be not to get him something?” Jimmy looked at his feet and mumbled the next part. “And besides, a five hundred dollar car is not a car worth driving.”

“So, what? You didn’t have a car back in Cicero?”

“I sure as shit did! 1977 Cutlass Supreme. _Loved_ that car.”

“So what happened to it?”

“I gave it away.”

“And yet you can’t afford a car _now_?”

“To tell you the truth?” Jimmy laughed at himself, though it still came off as a little sad. “I don’t have the kind of money I had back in Cicero. Not even close.”

Kim shot him a look. “How the hell does that work? You said you were unemployed. Getting drunk during weekdays.”

“Well, yeah, _sorta_.”

She raised an eyebrow at that, and he nodded understandingly.

Stretching out his arms behind him, Jimmy looked around the room and peered through the glass. Then he looked straight at Kim again.

“Do you have any change?” Jimmy asked sharply.

“…What?”

“Change. Like, coins. Do you have any?”

“I- uh, yeah, I think so. Why?”

“Give me one.”

“What for?”

“Just do it.”

She rolled her eyes, but nevertheless walked halfway across the room to grab her purse off the counter and carry it back to the spot where they’d been standing across from each other.

Pulling out a quarter, she held it between two fingers and then tossed it to Jimmy, who caught it with a slick grin. “There,” she mumbled.

“Great.” Jimmy closed the quarter in his fist. “Now, tell me: what way was Washington facing?”

“Huh?” Startled by the question, Kim stared at his fist, biting her lip with a chuckle. “I- uh… oh, shit. Left…?”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was right?”

“Yes,” she replied instantly. “Without question, I would believe that.”

“Well.” He opened his fist, pinching the coin and showing it to her. “You were right, actually. He does face left. But imagine you’re a middle-aged asshole in a suit drinking in the middle of the day. You’re a little buzzed. Neon beer sign casting the whole room in this dim blue light. _Joan_ _Jett_ _and_ _the_ _Blackhearts_ playing in the background, so quiet you think you might be imagining it.”

“Yeah. I would _believe_ it, all right.”

“So me and a buddy of mine, we used to use a Kennedy half dollar.”

Kim laughed, pressing her tongue to the inside of her cheek. “Oh, no…”

“Yeah. We’d find a good target, and me and my friend would sit on the other side of the bar and start talkin’ like I was gonna rip _him_ off with the coin. Get him and the actual mark on the same side. And I’d say my coin, the half-dollar, was a mint error, facing left instead of right.”

“Oh _no_ …”

Jimmy laughed, rolling the coin between his fingers with poorly-concealed nostalgia. “We probably ran two dozen of those coin scams, all told. Usually we’d pull in maybe a hundred bucks. The best one we did, we made six-fifty.”

“I… what, are you- _six-fifty_?”

“I know.”

“You’re telling me you sold a fifty cent coin for six hundred and fifty dollars?”

“Yeah, I know, I know,” said Jimmy, waving her off. “It’s… it’s illegal, and- I mean, look, it’s all behind me, and I swear that-”

“No, no, Jimmy, that’s not what I’m- I mean.” Kim looked him in the eye and chuckled with disbelief, running her hand through her hair. “Just. I mean, Jesus.” She paused for a second, staring at the floor. “…What the hell are we doing _this_ for?”

“Ha.”

Jimmy tossed the coin back to her, and she laid it down on the counter. He leaned back on the copier. Kim chuckled again, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

They looked each other in the eye for a very long time, and everything was quiet save for the buzzing of the machinery in the mailroom.

Kim drummed her fingers on the counter behind her.

…

The pair nearly smashed the copier when she forced his back up against it.


	5. Cherub

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and gentlemen, I hesitantly present to you the chapter of this story I am willing to claim is the most likely to eventually become definitively non-canon.  
> (...So far!)
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The sun was setting on a long, flat stretch of land over the countryside. One dirt road was the only thing separating two vast fields of wheat, and only one car drove on it- a big, loud, rickety pickup truck, the color of a fire truck.

Kim was asleep in the truck bed, her head resting on Owen’s shoulder- however uneasily, given the truck’s constant jostling. He rested his hand on her knee, which was draped with the skirt of her baby blue sundress.

The truck traveled out of town for the better part of an hour, through the wheat fields, to a lovely old farmhouse situated smack-dab in the middle of fifteen acres of open land. It met its home in a thick patch of grass at the end of the dirt road, alongside five others of a similar model and a variety of colors.

Owen lolled his head on the window behind him and took a deep breath, sitting up in the truck bed.

“Kim. Baby.” He shook her shoulder with one hand, and she groaned, putting her hand over his.

“Huh…?” Her eyes fluttered as she woke, sitting up and rubbing her eyes with her forearm. “Oh, I told you not to let me fall asleep…”

“Sorry. You seemed comfortable.”

“S’alright…” she slurred, yawning loudly and sitting up on her knees. “…We’re here…?”

“Looks like it.”

The doors of the truck slammed shut as the passengers stepped outside. The driver rested a hand on the edge of the truck bed, and he walked through the grass to meet Kim and Owen in the back.

“Were you sleeping this whole time, Kimmie?” asked Mr. Wexler with a jolly grin. “I didn’t hear you two talking it up like I thought I would.”

“Yeah; uh…” Kim stretched her arms above her head like a cat and yawned loudly again. “It’s just so quiet out here. I guess I needed some sleep.”

“Well, I hope you’re feeling well-rested now. We’re gonna be out late tonight.” Glancing over his shoulder, he jabbed his thumb over his shoulder toward the front of the truck. “Why don’t you hop on out of there and help your mother carry the yams up?”

“Oh! I got it, Mr. Wexler!” Owen spoke up before Kim got a chance to, hopping eagerly down from the truck. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Well, how about that?” Kim’s father put his hands on his hips, widening his eyes at the boy with an impressed smile. “That’s very kind of you. Thank you, Owen.”

Kim slid out the back of the truck and nestled her feet on the ground, the long blades of grass tickling the edge of her toes through her sandals. She trailed behind Owen and her parents, dragging her feet.

Everything stretched out so far on the farm. You couldn’t even see the end of the property. The fields just carried on all the way out to the horizon. Kim was taken by it.

* * *

Everyone was gathered around behind the house, either standing or sitting around on lawn chairs. The older cousins all laughed around the beer cooler. The younger ones were running around in the grass, weaving in and out of the different crowds of adults. The only person there Kim’s age was her boyfriend, and she’d brought him herself.

Kim followed her parents to the porch of the house to meet her grandparents, while Owen floated awkwardly behind with his hands folded in front of him. Nana Wexler always had the most precious smile on her face, like whoever she was speaking to was her favorite person on Earth.

“Kim? Oh, my; look at you! I swear you’ve grown three inches.”

They hugged, and Kim took off her sandals so she wouldn’t seem taller.

“Hi, Nana.”

“How old are you, now, sweetheart?”

“Sixteen, now,” Kim said quietly, fingers interlocking behind her back.

“Goodness gracious.” She shook her head with disbelief and leaned forward in her chair, taking a glance at the boy half-hiding behind Kim’s shoulder. “And who’s this handsome young man hiding behind you?”

“Owen, ma’am.” He stepped in front of Kim with his hand extended, eager to impress. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Kim took a step back in the grass.

“Oh, aren’t you polite?” Nana Wexler shook Owen’s hand. “I think I’ve heard about you before; isn’t that right? Kim was talking about you in the spring…”

“I believe she invited me to celebrate Easter with you folks, ma’am. I’m sorry we couldn’t have met earlier. My family just wouldn’t have it; my own grandmother was very insistent that the Lord wants the whole family together.”

“She sounds like a smart lady.”

“Oh, she is. Very much so. And we had a lovely Easter.”

All the relatives sitting around the porch laughed.

“So how did you two meet?” asked Uncle Bobby, who stood leaning against the house with a drink in his hand.

Kim clasped her hands together, but Owen spoke for them before she could.

“We’re high school classmates.”

Kim rubbed her arm. “English.”

“That’s right. English class last year, we met. But it’s a small school, so we’d seen each other around before then.”

“Do you like school, Owen?” asked Aunt Janet.

“Eh. Parts of it, I suppose…”

“What do you like to do for fun?” asked Uncle Keith.

“I play on the football team. I’m no good, but…”

“He sure tries,” added Kim, earning a few more scattered laughs.

Owen held her hand tightly.

Uncle Bobby waved her off with a chuckle. “Hey, since when do you care about football, Kim?”

Kim just shrugged. “Oh, I don’t hate it.”

“It’s not all about the sport,” Kim’s father chimed in, resting a hand on her shoulder. “I think Kimmie just likes the opportunity to get out of the house when she can.”

And it was true, too, not that she particularly enjoyed it. It was important to Owen that she showed up to the games, though, and regardless- everyone at school did it, no matter how boring it was.

Fortunately, the attention quickly shifted away from the young couple, as the people on the porch spotted someone new approaching from around the front of the house.

Kim’s face lit up when she saw him.

“Leon!” said Kim’s mom- that is, Leon’s sister.

He was tall and a little scrawny, but he had a gentle face. His beard was jet-black, and even scruffier than she remembered it.

Releasing his sister, Leon extended his arms to the crowd, laughing with delight. “So good to see you guys! How long’s it been, huh?”

Kim let go of Owen’s hand. “Uncle Leon!”

He widened his eyes with surprise and turned to face her, smile growing. “My God, is that little Kimberly? Holy shit! C’mere!”

“Watch your mouth; Leon! There’s kids around, dummy,” Kim’s mother snapped at him, slapping him playfully on the arm.

Leon scratched the back of his head. “Sorry, sorry…”

Kim wrapped her arms around her uncle, and he rested a hand gently on the back of her head.

“It’s good to see you,” she mumbled, starting to get emotional.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?”

“I’m alright.” She released him and straightened herself out, focusing on him with a concerned pout. “But what about you…?”

“Aw, honey. I’m just fine. Don’t you worry about me.” He patted her on the head. “Tell you the truth, I’m better’n fine. I mean, god damn; look at this weather today. I don’t-”

“-Watch your _mouth_ , Leon!”

“Sorry!”

Leon chuckled nervously, flashing Kim another glance and then lurching over to the cooler to grab a beer.

“So is this it, Leon? You’re here for good?” asked Janet.

“Oh, I’m here!” He flashed a toothy grin, cracking open his can and taking his spot leaning on the wall on the porch. “Long as I don’t violate my parole. And trust me, that _ain’t_ gonna happen on my watch.”

“It’s so good to see you.”

“Good to see you, too, Jan. I didn’t think I was gonna have everything settled by the Fourth, but I pulled it off.” He glanced at Kim again. “Wouldn’t want to have to wait for next year; the fireworks are shit by my place-”

“- _Leon_ ,” said Kim’s mother.

“…Sorry.” Leon tapped a finger on his beer, narrowing his eyes in Kim’s direction. “Say.” He raised a hand to point past her, to Owen. “What’s your name, young man?”

Kim turned to look at her boyfriend, who looked startled.

“I- Owen, sir!” he announced sharply. “It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

“Yeah. It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, Owen. You’re here with Kim?”

“That’s right, sir.”

“Jesus. Can hardly believe it. The kids are growing up.” Chuckling, Leon took a step forward, commanding everyone’s attention as he spoke, and gestured toward Kim. “You know something? She sent me birthday cards every year. Even when she was nine years old, I had this little blonde cherub sendin’ me birthday cards. Her handwriting was better than mine, even back then. Even since day one, she was worrying about me. I remember these little black pumps she was wearing when she came to my hearing. Like tap shoes. Even the judge was laughing.”

Kim was red with embarrassment as her family laughed.

“But you know something, Kimmie?” Leon continued. “I kept all those cards you sent me. I’ve still got ‘em.” He looked her right in the eye, smiling softly. “And I’m sorry I didn’t say much in writing you back. I just… I wasn’t really always in the best place back then. But that was a really good thing you did for me.”

“Well, isn’t that just about the sweetest thing you can imagine?” said Nana Wexler.

“I sure as hell think so.”

“Leon, for goodness’s sake,” said Kim’s mother. “You don’t still need to be talking like you’re in prison.”

He threw his head back. “Aw, c’mon; I was always this bad.”

“…I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

Leon set down his beer and clapped his hands together, chuckling loudly. “Alright, so, I want to know about Mr. Owen here.”

“Oh, we already put the poor kid through all this before you got here, Leon,” said Keith.

“Does he play football?”

“Junior varsity,” said Owen self-consciously.

“Heh. Good man,” Leon declared.

“That’s right.” Kim’s father spoke up that time. “I’m always saying, it’s a rite of passage for a young man to play in high school.”

Owen nodded along. “Like I said, I’m not any good, though.”

“That’s alright. I wasn’t any good either. All that really matters is that you look good enough out on the field to impress the girls watching.”

The crowd laughed at that.

“It’s true! Don’t you know, that’s exactly why I approached him, back when we were schoolkids?” asked Kim’s mother. “You can’t tell exactly what they look like under those shoulder pads.

Kim _did_ know, of course, as did everyone else, given that her mother had told the story a hundred times.

Kim’s mother was young, and blonde, and beautiful. People said she looked like Nancy Sinatra. Her father was one year older than her. A good old hometown boy. The two were high school sweethearts. Kim was born before either of them turned twenty.

“I spent all year cheerleading,” said Kim’s mother, “and you know, you would get looks from the boys all the time, but nobody ever looked at me like he did. Nobody…”

Everyone laughed along with the silly story. Almost all of them had a similar one.

Owen held Kim’s hand as he listened. He was laughing, too.

Kim stopped listening. She was staring off into the distance. Acres and acres stretching out past the farmhouse.

The story carried on and on. People were making chitchat.

It was all just noise, like mosquitos buzzing in her ears.

“You know, the kid actually kinda looks like you, Pete,” she heard someone say eventually, in the midst of everything.

Kim’s father’s first name was Pete.

* * *

Fireworks exploded in the clear night sky, painting the whole area intermittently in bright colors. They were much too far to see the fireworks in town, of course- so the family just set them off themselves outside the farmhouse.

Of course, Kim and Owen had snuck off long before then. Nobody wondered where they were- kids will be kids, after all. Although Kim resented being called a kid.

The pair of them leaned on a white fence and smoked, far out of sight of any of the adults. Kim rolled a cigarette around between her middle and her ring finger, watching the smoke trail into the sky and fade away.

“Sorry about them all grilling you like that,” she mumbled. “They can be a little much sometimes.”

“It’s alright. They’re just want to know who they might be inviting into the family someday.”

Owen laughed, though Kim didn’t really respond. His face sank, and he didn’t say anything else for a little while.

He looked at the grass when he spoke again. “…Say, Kim.”

“What is it?” she replied nonchalantly.

“Ah… if you don’t mind me asking.” He looked up, taking a drag on his cigarette. “What happened to your Uncle Leon?”

Kim hesitated.

“…He stole a car. He… drinks. But he’s not a bad guy.” She shook her head. “They found a gun on him. He didn’t hurt anyone. He… he didn’t even know he had it. It was just tucked into his waistband. He was licensed to have it. And there was no one in the car- it was parked in a lot. But there was a bystander nearby that caught him. And they saw the gun under his shirt and got spooked. They sentenced him to eight years.”

“Wow. I’m sorry.”

“It’s behind him now.”

Owen pouted at her, resting his hands on his knees. “Time flies.” Smoke trailed up and obscured his face a little.

“I guess,” said Kim.

“Pretty soon we’re gonna be graduating.”

“I know.”

“I was thinking.” He rubbed his arm. “You know my dad’s an electrician?”

“Yeah.”

“I was thinking maybe I could do that. What… I don’t know. I think I’d be good at it. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“That’s a trade school, right? Two more years of studying after high school?”

“Yeah. But I think I can do it. I think…” He nodded to himself. “I really think I’d be good at it.”

Kim looked him in the eye. “I think you should.” She smiled. “I think that would really make you happy.”

“Thanks.” He took a long drag on his cigarette, but it seemed like an excuse to put off speaking again. “Um… what about you?”

Kim threw her head back. “What _about_ me?”

“What are you gonna do? Are you gonna go to school?”

“I don’t know.” She tapped on her cigarette with one finger, flicking ash into the grass. Her face sank, and she sighed as she thought about it. “I don’t know, Owen.”

He scratched the back of his head. “You’re the smartest girl I know. You’ll figure it out. Hey.” He tossed his cigarette to the ground to free up his hand, reaching out to the side and resting his palm over Kim’s hand. “We’ve got our whole lives ahead of us, still.”

She stared into the distance. The sky flashed red for a second.

“I know,” said Kim.

“I love you,” said Owen.

She nodded slowly a few times.

“…Really?” she asked flatly, not turning to look at him. “Do you?”

“What…?” Owen’s voice grew a little fainter. “Kim, I… yeah. Of course I do.”

“Mm.” She nodded. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why?” With a raised eyebrow, she rested her palm against the fence, looking him in the eye. “What do you love about me?”

“You-” he hesitated- “You’re pretty. And sweet. And funny. And…” He stammered a few times, struggling to read her face. “I- I… you’re my _girl_ , Kim…”

She looked at him for a long time without saying anything. The sky flashed white. Kim looked out into the distance again.

“What’s going on, Kim? Are you alright? It seems like you’ve been down all week…”

“I’m okay. Seriously, I am.” Kim pursed her lips. “I’m just… I have a lot on my mind.”

The sky flashed green.

“I think we should break up,” she added.

“…Oh.”

His voice was very faint, and obviously hurt. But not surprised.

Kim didn’t feel too bad about it, though that, paradoxically, made her feel kind of bad.

“Why?” he asked.

Kim thought about it for a little while. The sky flashed orange.

She raised her cigarette to her lips again, puffing out smoke and letting it trail out of sight above her.


	6. Enchantment

Kim’s hand shot out with lightning speed to silence her alarm clock, before she was fully awake or her eyes were even open. Her palm felt around on the bedside table, but she only found a lamp, and so the buzzing continued. Then she opened her eyes and realized what the problem was: the clock was not hers, and it was resting on the table at the other side of the bed, next to Jimmy.

She climbed over him to silence it- and sighed audibly at the blinking _8:30_ on the display.

“Are you awake?” she asked quietly, resting her hands on her stomach over the covers as she relaxed back into her position in bed.

Getting no response, Kim sighed and lolled her head to the side, speaking into his ear.

“Jimmy.”

He shuffled only slightly, pulling the covers up to his collar. “Hm…?”

“Come on.” She shook him with one hand. “We gotta get up.”

“What…?” He snuggled up closer to her, resting a hand on her bare shoulder and running it down her upper arm. “Why? What time is it?”

“It’s 8:30. Your alarm is set super late.”

“I probably hit snooze while I was half-asleep.”

“Well, all the more reason to get moving, then,” said Kim, yanking her arm away from him and thrusting the covers off of her. “We gotta get up. I’m gonna be late for work as it is. But you might actually be okay if you hurry.”

She sat up and threw her feet out of bed, taking a moment to rub her eyes with both hands before standing to get dressed.

“Agh. Work. Work, work, work…” Jimmy took a deep breath with his eyes closed, sliding back to rest his back against the headboard. “Counter-offer: let’s play hooky. You know this place has a pool? How’s that strike you for an afternoon? Land of enchantment, baby.”

“…Jimmy, I don’t have a bathing suit.”

“You don’t _need_ a bathing suit.” He rested his hands behind his head, shamelessly admiring her as she got dressed in front of him. “Hell, you don’t need anything. I say you’re fine as is.”

“Wow.” She sniggered, but unsurprisingly it did not stop her from putting her clothes on. “Okay, well. I’m _not_ playing hooky. And I’m certainly not going skinny dipping in your condo’s _public swimming pool_.”

“Worth a shot.” Jimmy closed his eyes again, waving his hand and relaxing back down into the covers.

Kim got down on one knee to pick through the clothes on the floor.

“Where’s my blouse?” she asked, peeking under the bed. “I don’t see it down here.”

Jimmy didn’t open his eyes. “You probably left it on the kitchen table. Remember?”

She stood up. “Oh… yeah.”

He grinned cheekily as she hurried away, to the table one room over.

“Feels good to finally christen the new house.”

“Uh. Gross,” she replied from the other room.

Kim found her blouse in a pile of fruit on the kitchen floor- apparently the two of them had knocked the fruit bowl off the table the night before.

“Okay. Got it.” After a minute, she walked back around the wall, now fully dressed and with her shoes dangling in one hand. She loomed over the bed, resting her free hand on her hip. “Jimmy. Hurry up. Get out of bed and put your pants on. Here’s what I’m thinking…” she muttered, leaning to the side to look past the wall at the front door. “My place is in the opposite direction from HHM. But if you hurry, I could drop you at the bus station, and you can get to work on time.”

“And what about you?”

Jimmy finally slumped out of bed, digging a new pair of boxer shorts out of his drawer.

“I’m past saving. But if I’m quick, I could stop at my place and still not end up being _too_ late.” She gestured at him with both hands. “Hence: hurry up, Jimmy.”

“What do you have to go back to your place for?” He finally pulled himself out of bed and pulled his boxers over his waist, strolling languidly around the bed. “You can use my shower.”

“I’m not showing up to work wearing the same clothes two days in a row. Especially not these; they’re all wrinkled. They’ve been balled up on the floor all night.” She lifted her foot behind her to slip a shoe on. “Besides, better that we don’t walk through the door at the same time.”

Jimmy stopped short at the comment, though Kim apparently didn’t think anything of it until he turned to look her in the eye.

“Uh… what?” he asked slowly. “…Why?”

They studied each other for the duration of a prolonged awkward pause.

Kim shrugged noncommittally. “…Well, just so people don’t see us walking in together and think…”

She trailed off halfway through, gritting her teeth.

“…I don’t- think _what_ , Kim? What, you…” Suddenly a little hurt, Jimmy tilted his head, speaking hesitantly. “You… uh, don’t want to be seen with me…?”

Kim froze. “Uh.” She cupped her hands, frowning guiltily. “Uh… okay, I… I am realizing now… that that came across as… mean. I’m sorry, I wasn’t… I didn’t mean it that way.”

His face softened a little. “Then… how’d you mean it…?”

“I was… uh.” She shrugged again. “I was just thinking, I don’t want people to get the wrong idea…”

And then she trailed off again, visibly uncomfortable with her own words.

“…Um, alright,” Kim huffed, patting her hands on her legs. “Uh, here’s what we’re gonna do. If you aren’t worried about being late, we’ll just- I’ll let you get ready here, then we can both go back to my place, and you can have a cup of coffee or something while _I_ get ready. Then I’ll take us both to work.”

“Uh… okay…” mumbled Jimmy. “Yeah, we’ll, uh… yeah.”

He brushed past her with his clean clothes draped around his arm, closing the bathroom door without another word. Kim hovered in the middle of the room with her arms at her sides.

She closed her eyes, inhaling slowly, and muttered harshly under her breath. “… _Shit_.”

The shower turned on in the other room.

With nothing else to do, she meandered into the kitchen and cleaned up the mess on the floor, picking pieces of fruit off the floor and leaving them in the bowl in the center of the table. Then she realigned the bowl, and then she realigned it again a few times for good measure.

When Jimmy got out of the shower, he found her sitting at the table with her hands folded over her lap.

They exchanged a glance.

“How’s my tie?” he asked, straightening out his clothes.

“Uh.” Kim blinked. “Good. It looks good.”

“Good.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, making his way into the kitchen to stand over the table.

“I wouldn’t eat this fruit if I were you. Probably broke the five second rule," she said quietly, adjusting the bowl again with one hand.

“It’s alright.” Jimmy picked up a banana and then dropped it back in. “I, uh… probably wasn’t gonna eat it anyway.”

“Maybe for the best.”

He clicked his tongue.

“Uh.” Drumming his fingers on the table, Jimmy checked his watch and glanced up at her. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m ready.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“No. You haven’t.”

Jimmy held the door open for her. The two of them walked down to the parking lot and got into Kim’s car without saying a word.

Music blasted from the radio the moment Kim put the keys in the ignition- her cassette of _The Jesus and Mary Chain_ was still in the tape deck from the night before. Both of them jumped at the noise.

“Oh. Sorry. I must have left this on last night.”

“No, no; it’s fine…”

She turned the music down, but left it playing loud enough to fill the silence between the two of them.

The drive was long and painful.

Kim spoke up at some point in the middle of it. “…Jimmy, I didn’t-”

“-It’s okay. I get it.” He waved her off coolly.

“I’m just worried about looking professional. That’s all. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I _get_ it. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.”

Then the two of them were quiet again, all the way to Kim’s apartment.

Kim took the lead on the way up the stairs, though Jimmy took a few moments to appraise the building from outside first.

“Nice place.”

“Yeah,” said Kim, looking over her shoulder with a pout.

Her apartment was a few floors up. Jimmy couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy as Kim let him inside- the place was twice the size of the condo he was staying at. Pool or no pool.

“So this is where the magic happens?” he said with an awkward chuckle, making a little loop around the interior as Kim shut the door behind them.

“Yeah. This is it.” She followed him the rest of the way in, pointing across the wide open space in a few places. “Living room. Bedroom. Kitchen. You can put a pot of coffee on if you want.” She straightened herself out, standing still just long enough to exchange a glance with Jimmy. “Uh, okay. Give me ten minutes, tops.”

“No problem.”

They smiled at each other, and after one more awkward pause, Kim retreated down the hall into the bedroom.

Jimmy ran a hand through his hair as he made his way into the kitchenette area to fill up a coffee filter.

The shower turned on in the other room.

Jimmy twiddled his thumbs. 9:00 passed before long. He poured himself a cup of coffee out of the pot and wandered around aimlessly in the apartment.

Kim had a little cactus in a pot sitting on her coffee table, next to a family photo. Jimmy ran his finger gently over the spines. It seemed pointless to him to keep one inside the house, when they were already living in the middle of a desert wasteland. Kim had mentioned she wasn’t from New Mexico- that she’d moved from somewhere in the Midwest.

He wondered how long she’d lasted before she bought herself a cactus.

Jimmy finished his coffee and set the mug down in the sink. A hairdryer turned on in the other room.

A few minutes later, Kim came back outside, admittedly looking much more put-together than she had before they had arrived.

She adjusted her earrings with both hands as she met Jimmy by the kitchen counter, only half-paying attention to him. “Hey. Ready to go?”

“Sure.” Jimmy looked her over. “Uh, coffee for the road? Made a pot, so it’d be a shame to let it go to waste.”

“Yeah, actually, that sounds nice. Thanks.”

“You got it.” He made a finger gun as he fished through the cabinets. “Where are-?”

“Second from the left. There’s a thermos in there.”

“Duly noted.”

She took the thermos from his hand the second he filled it up. He scratched the back of his head.

“Okay,” she said quickly. “Let’s get out of here. We’re later than I had hoped.”

“After you.”

Their footsteps were out-of-sync as Jimmy followed her to the front door. He was moving a little slower than she was. And he stared at the back of her head.

“…Hey, Kim. Hold on.”

She paused just before opening the front door, looking over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Uh… can we just…?”

Hovering a few feet away, he moved his hands around uncertainly in front of him, almost like a tic.

Kim lowered her gaze guiltily. “Jimmy.” She sighed. “Look, I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. That’s on me. Please don’t take it personally.”

“No, no, I get it, seriously. It’s not a problem,” he replied quietly, avoiding looking her in the eye at first. “I just mean… are we… I mean, can we…”

She shook her head incredulously. “…Can we…? What, Jimmy? Use your words.”

“I just want to.” Jimmy looked up sharply. “I just- what… what do we do now?”

“’What do we do now’? What do you mean, ‘what do we do now’?”

“I mean. What is- what-?” He waved a hand in-between the two of them. “What _was_ this, Kim?” he gulped.

She finally puzzled out what he was trying to ask.

“Oh, _Jimmy_ …” Even still, it took her a long time to come up with a response. Exhausted by the question, she leaned back against the door, picking at her fingernail. “…I… don’t know. But… it was very impulsive.”

“But it was fun, right?”

“I-” She gave a dry laugh, looking up sharply. “…Yeah, obviously it was _fun_ , but that doesn’t mean it’s…!”

“Doesn’t mean it’s…” repeated Jimmy. “…So, you’re saying that we’re…” He kept waving his hand back and forth. “That there’s nothing…?”

“Jimmy.” She placed a hand on her forehead, whispering something under her breath. “Jimmy. Listen to me.” She took a moment to make sure she had his complete attention, looking him right in the eye with a stern expression. “It’s not… _nothing_. Okay? But honestly. Look at me. _Look_ at where I am right now. I am busier than I have ever been in my life. I barely have time to breathe. And I really, _really_ do not have the energy to…” –This time she was the one to wave her hand in-between them- “…figure _this_ out. Okay? So, just. It’s not _nothing_ , but either way, can’t we just let it _be_? Please. _Please_ , for my sake, can we just… not _make_ it something?” She sucked in her breath.

Jimmy was obviously crestfallen, but he looked elsewhere to avoid drawing attention to it. It didn’t achieve much.

Regardless, he tried to be diplomatic. “Yeah. Not a problem. Uh.” He looked up slowly. “Sorry if I-”

“-Don’t be, Jimmy.” She gave him a small but empathetic smile. “Nothing’s changed. Okay? We’re good.”

“Yeah. I get it, Kim. We’re good.” Jimmy replied sharply, rubbing his wrist with his hand. “Nothing’s changed.”

* * *

Jimmy found her again at lunch that afternoon, eating by herself- as usual- over a book.

He held his lunch bag in one hand, but he hesitated to say anything.

Kim finished the page she was on before she acknowledged him standing behind her. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Jimmy slowly placed his hand on the table. “Do you mind if I…?”

She sighed under her breath, then smiled amiably. “…No, Jimmy. Please do.”

“Great.”

He settled onto the bench next to her. She read for another minute or two in silence, leaving him to pull out his lunch.

When Kim spoke, she didn’t look up. “So, I ran into Howard this morning…”

“Yeah?” said Jimmy, mouth full. “And did he, uh, knock you for being late?”

“Probably, but he didn’t say anything.”

He chuckled quietly. “What are you doing?”

“Oh.” Kim pointed to the book in front of her. “Um, studying. I have class tonight.”

“Yeah? And what are you studying?”

“Just something from a casebook. It’s, uh, a New Mexico decision made a couple years ago. Basically, that general correspondence between attorneys doesn’t equate to court appearance for the purposes of deferring a default judgement.” She looked up at him, poking the text in her book absentmindedly. “So the defendant, this company called Tabachin Inc, filed a motion with the district court to set aside a-”

“-Alright, I, uh… I get the picture, Kim.”

She hesitated. “Uh, sorry.”

Jimmy stared at her with a frown. “No, I asked.” He nodded once to himself, reluctantly placing his lunch back in his bag. “You’re busy.”

“…Yeah.”

“I’ll get out of your hair.”

Jimmy stood to leave, and Kim slid over on the bench, looking after him.

“I’ll see you around, Jimmy…” she murmured apologetically.

He raised a hand. “See ya.”

And Kim got back to work.

A few minutes later, Jimmy slumped down to Ernie at a table in a less isolated section of the mailroom, digging into his bag again without saying hello.

Ernie his sandwich from his mouth with a concerned frown. “Hey, Jimmy…”

Jimmy didn’t say anything at first.

“Everything alright?” Ernie asked.

“Everything’s good, Ernie.” Jimmy looked past the two of them. “Hey, I don’t think I ever asked you. How’d you end up working here? In the mailroom?”

“Oh.” He shrugged. “Well, I applied at a few different places. I guess… I just needed to find something to do with myself while I got my feet under me. I graduated not that long ago…”

“Yeah? How’s that going?” said Jimmy. “Getting your feet under you?”

“It’s going, I guess. Slowly.” Ernie frowned. “I’m working on it.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I… well. You know. It’s work.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy stared at the table. “I know.”

“Uh… why do you ask, Jimmy?”

“I guess.” Jimmy thought about it for a second, rubbing under his nose with his index finger. “I guess… it’s just kind of hittin’ me.” He locked his jaw. “What we’re doing here.”

* * *

It was very nearly pitch black outside when Chuck and Howard stepped out of the elevator and into the parking garage. Howard’s bellowing laugh echoed loudly throughout.

The two parted ways around a pillar, and Chuck straightened out his suit as he made his way to his car, digging through his pocket for his keys.

As soon as he got close, he spotted a silhouette, leaning on the passenger side door.

His surprise only lasted as long as it took him to realize it was his brother.

“Oh-!” Chuck jumped at the sight. “Jimmy? What are you-? It’s late!” he groaned, throwing a hand up. “How long have you been waiting here?”

Jimmy shrugged vaguely, raising his wrist to his face to read his watch. “’Bout twenty-five minutes.”

“Jimmy, you promised me you were going to get a car weeks ago.”

“I know. I’m sorry about that. I’m working on it, I swear.”

“So, I take it you’re waiting for me to give you a ride home?” demanded Chuck with a disapproving glare.

Jimmy’s face sank. “I’m just… really getting sick of taking the bus.”

He tugged on his sleeve, head hanging low.

And with a sigh, Chuck softened a little. “I take it you haven’t eaten?”

“…Nah,” Jimmy responded gruffly.

“Alright. Alright, Jimmy.”

Chuck stepped around the hood of the car, shaking his head.

Jimmy slumped off of the door, looking up a little. “What’s that?”

Chuck unlocked the door. “Let’s go.”


	7. Baroque

“Jimmy?”

A hand on his shoulder shook him awake, and his eyes shot open with surprise for a second before he remembered where he was.

“Oh…” Jimmy yawned. “…Hey, Rebecca…”

She smiled gently, walking away from the couch to give Jimmy some space. “Did you sleep okay on the couch? I’ve thought about clearing out some space for a guest room, but… it’s so hard to commit to anything that might hurt the décor.”

“Yeah. Décor. Well, that’s definitely… important.” Jimmy sat up straight, rubbing his eyes and yawning loudly again. “Ah… and to tell you the truth, your couch is more comfortable than my bed at the Beachcomber. It’s like… a cloud had sex with a sheep, or something.”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow with a restrained smirk. “…A sheep?”

“Sheep are soft, right?”

With a grin, Jimmy stood from the couch and placed his hands behind him, cracking his back and stretching out with an exaggerated groan.

“Hey, Rebecca, uh.” Jimmy straightened himself out with a sheepish expression. “I wanted to say, uh… sorry for barging in on you last night and everything. Chuck made me promise I wouldn’t get in your way. I know you have a, uh… big recital or something that you’re getting ready for.”

“It’s a concert. But it’s not until late next week. Please don’t feel like you need to apologize, Jimmy. You weren’t any trouble at all.”

“Great, I… great. I’m glad.” He half-shrugged. “Even still. I gotta thank you. Dinner was just… seriously awesome. Maybe even better than the last time I was here. You’re a crazy good cook.”

“You’re very flattering,” Rebecca replied with a polite nod. “Thank you.”

Jimmy smiled at her and put his hands on his hips, pacing slowly around the couch. “Hey, speaking of which,” he mentioned, pointing a finger in the air. “Something smells amazing… what _is_ that?”

“Your brother is making breakfast. He woke up early this morning, you know.”

“He did? Ah, shit…!” Immediately alarmed, Jimmy took his hands off his hips and rushed forward to look into the kitchen. “I should be cooking for _you_ guys. He’s always making me look bad. Hah…” He laughed nervously and scratched behind his head, the embarrassment of having spent the night on their couch just starting to kick in.

Without waiting around for Rebecca, he scurried off into the kitchen with a self-conscious frown, hoping to get the chance to help out rather than accept any more charity.

“Chuck…!”

He found his brother whistling over the stovetop with a frying pan.

“Hello, Jimmy.” Chuck glanced at him over his shoulder. “Blueberries? Or no?”

Jimmy raised a limp finger in protest, then let it fall weakly in front of him, realizing that his chance to pitch in was long past. “Uh… yeah. Thanks, Chuck.”

Chuck flipped a pancake and nodded, half-paying attention. “Why don’t you go wash up? You can use the shower attached to the master bedroom. The food should be done when you’re finished getting ready for work.”

“Okay. I’ll, uh, leave you to it, then.” Jimmy clenched his teeth. “Thanks…”

“You’re welcome.”

Jimmy stalked off out of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. Rebecca smiled at him as she passed. He slumped his shoulders.

Chuck’s shower was incredibly luxurious- covered in stainless steel. Like nothing Jimmy had ever had living in Cicero. _Certainly_ nothing like what the two of them had had growing up.

Jimmy was torn between respect and jealousy.

When he returned to the first floor, he found Chuck and Rebecca already seated in the dining room. There was a place set for him.

“Geez. You really didn’t have to go to all this trouble, Chuck…”

He exchanged a glance with his brother, who just shook his head as Jimmy took his seat.

“I thought we could all use a little burst of energy this morning.” Chuck pointed his fork toward his wife with a fond smile. “You know, Rebecca has been working herself to the bone all week.”

“Oh.” Rebecca waved him off. “It’s just been rehearsals. Nothing I haven’t done a thousand times before.”

“Well, in any case. It’s a nice little incentive to get up early, don’t you think?” Chuck gestured toward Jimmy to get his attention again. “I heard you came in late yesterday morning.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Jimmy replied with a guilty frown. “I was, um… well, I was out late the night before.”

“Out with your friends from the mailroom?” Rebecca asked enthusiastically.

“Mhm.”

“Well, good for you, settling in!”

“Not that we should let that take precedence over diligence about work,” Chuck protested.

“No, no, of course not. But still. It must be a difficult transition for you, Jimmy.”

“Yeah, well. Not in Kansas anymore, and all that,” Jimmy chuckled, a little nervous. “But I think I’ve got the swing of things. Just working on… fitting in, I guess.”

“It sounds like you’ve adjusted a lot since your first week.”

“I have.” He wasted no time in amending that: “Thanks to present company, of course! I’m settling into the new place, which Chuck helped me put down some money for. So, y’know, thanks for that.”

Chuck just nodded.

“…Uh, anyway.” Jimmy took a second to chew. “Made some friends at work. And I guess making an impression is the most important thing? Like, for working up the ladder, right? In fact, Howard actually sat me down to talk the other day.” He shot Chuck an inquisitive look. “Hey, he didn’t mention me, did he?”

“I don’t think so,” Chuck said quietly.

“Gotta tell you, I think they like me there. I mean, mostly everyone that I’ve talked to.” As he spoke, Jimmy turned back to Rebecca, who nodded at him encouragingly. “You know, I, like, had it worked up in my head like I wouldn’t be able to get along with anybody. The good folks at HHM, they’re… eh, not exactly the kind of folks I used to hang around with. But I guess, at the end of the day, they’re all just _people_ , y’know? You just gotta treat ‘em like it.”

“That’s a nice thought,” said Rebecca.

She smiled reassuringly at Jimmy, and he ran out of words for just a minute, allowing them all a pause to eat.

Jimmy piped up again a minute later, gesturing with his fork in hand. “I’ll tell you what, though. If there’s one thing I’m never gonna get used to, it’s this weather. This city, it’s like… the whole place is a giant sweatbox. God knows I’m hiking up the air conditioning bill at the condo.”

“Yes, it can be pretty taxing,” noted Chuck. “Even during the winter, it’s usually relatively temperate. We don’t get much snow or ice down here.” He hung on that last bit, eyeing Jimmy up as he said it.

Jimmy got the point, frowning seriously at the remark. “Right.”

The mood was immediately dampened a little, leaving Jimmy picking guiltily at his food.

Fortunately, Rebecca didn’t seem to notice, and spoke up as soon as she noticed the silence. “…Well, I, for one, am more than ready for winter. We’re headed to Austria early next April. I’ve been looking forward to it for months.”

“Well, it’s not too far out now.” Chuck smiled at the thought. “Oh, that’s going to be fun. Touring Europe in the spring.”

“I’ve always wanted to see Salzburg,” Rebecca added.

Jimmy had little to contribute, but chimed in anyway to be polite. “Yeah… Salzburg. That’s exciting.”

“It’s an absolutely beautiful city. Incredible baroque architecture- cathedrals and churches built during the Renaissance.” Chuck glanced to Rebecca for a moment. “Rich musical history, too. It’s the birthplace of Mozart.” Getting no response, Chuck begrudgingly added, “…It’s also where they filmed _The Sound of Music_.”

“Oh, no shit? Cool!” Jimmy lowered his head. “Do, uh… you guys travel a lot?”

“Occasionally.”

“Work takes me out of the country on concert from time to time,” remarked Rebecca. “To be honest, I would love to tour more frequently. But it would just keep me away from home too much.”

“Well… just do whatever you can get away with, right?” Jimmy chuckled.

“I certainly do.”

That earned him a charmed laugh.

Jimmy’s laugh turned a bit dull, though, the more he thought about it.

He looked at the table, tapping his index finger inattentively on his fork. “Hey, uh, food’s great, Chuck.” He took another bite. “Feels like old times.”

Rebecca hummed with intrigue. “Old times?”

“Oh, believe me,” Chuck explained, “I cooked for the two of us plenty of times when we were kids. God knows Mom and Dad would get so busy…”

“That’s nice.” She looked from Chuck to Jimmy. “The two McGill boys roughing it together.”

“Yeah. We’ve always gotta look out for each other. Always have. Right?” Contrite, Jimmy gritted his teeth as he spoke, mostly to Chuck. “I… uh… I’m sorry I didn’t do more to keep in touch these past few years. But good for you guys, making your mark here.” He dropped his gaze again. “Chuck was always destined to come down south. Like a gold prospector. Coming where the money is. Never thought I’d join him.”

“Well. Even given the unfortunate circumstances… at least it’s given the chance for you two to reconnect. Family is everything, right?” Rebecca shrugged. “So, at the end of the day, everything has worked out.”

“Yeah. Guess so,” said Jimmy.

* * *

Jimmy was one of the last employees left in the mailroom again that night. His typically slow pace didn’t help, of course, but he found himself stalling more than usual, his head cloudy.

Kim, for once, actually had to hunt him down to get the chance to speak with him before leaving.

“Hey.”

He only briefly looked up to acknowledge her. “Hi.”

She stood around awkwardly for a second in the gap where he would normally make some kind of quip.

Getting nothing, her smile faded, and she leaned against the counter beside him. “So. It’s Friday night. Everyone’s getting ready to wrap things up here. Grab a drink.” She drummed her fingers behind her. “…I take it I should tell them to wait for you?”

“Nope.”

He didn’t look up. Kim, exhausted, sighed with her eyes closed.

This was exactly what she had hoped to avoid happening, after all.

“…Jimmy…” she murmured.

“What?” Jimmy craned his neck up from his work. “I can’t. I have… a prior engagement.”

She pursed her lips, raising an eyebrow suspiciously at the excuse.

He shrugged with open palms. “…Kim, I’ve been here a month already. It’s Friday night. Is it really that hard to believe that I might have made plans?”

It did little to kill her suspicions, but it was clearly not worth it to press the issue.

Kim softened a little. “…No, I guess not.” She patted a hand on the counter, struggling to think of something else to say before leaving. “Uh. Okay. I’ll see you on Monday, then.”

“Yeah.” He waved one hand. “Have a good weekend.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Kim, hovering in the doorway. “Bye.”

She left to join the others.

Jimmy spent another half an hour in the mailroom before taking the elevator upstairs to leave through the main entrance. Diane let him use the phone at reception to call a taxi.

* * *

Twenty minutes of aimlessly riding around in the dark eventually led Jimmy to a grody-looking bar nestled between two buildings at a street corner. It was apparently called ‘Eddie’s”, though the neon sign was appropriately half burnt-out. Jimmy paid the cab driver in cash.

A laminated piece of paper taped to the front door read, in small print:

_Ladies’ Night: Girls drink for 50% off until midnight_

Making no effort to hide his amusement, Jimmy thrust the door open with one hand and let it slam shut behind him. Standing still in the entrance, he appraised the bar from end to end- it was mostly empty, full of small parties of one or two, all men, and none of them speaking much. Nobody was seated up front at the counter. Static-y music played from a pair of speakers near the front of the room.

Jimmy breathed it in.

“Geez. Look at this place. It’s a ghost town in here.” One hand in his pocket, he marched up to the counter, speaking loud enough to draw everyone’s attention. “What, does nobody speak? Am I being haunted? Please tell me I’m not the only living person in here. I feel like I’m about to be seduced by Patrick Swayze.”

He took a seat at a stool near the center of the counter, resting his elbow there and grinning at the unamused middle-aged woman tending the bar behind it.

“I take it you’re Eddie?” Jimmy asked boisterously.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you going to be cute, or are you going to order something?”

“Order something. God. Please.” He slumped into his seat, eyeing up the liquor selection in the back. “I’m guessing you don’t have Old Style?”

The bartender stared blankly at him.

Jimmy scoffed. “Wisconsin beer. I’m from Chicago. It’s-” He rolled his eyes. “-Forget it. Just give me a bottle of whatever’s cheap.”

“You got it.”

She ducked beneath the counter and emerged with a beer, which she popped the top of and then slid to Jimmy.

He took a drink, smacking his lips from the taste. “God, tell me it’s not always so dead around here.”

“Gets a little busier sometimes, but not by much.”

“Damn. This town sucks.” He set down his bottle with a sigh. “Seems like nothing interesting happens after-hours.”

She seemed briefly surprised by the suggestion, and waved Jimmy off quickly. “Nah. You just have to know the right places to look.”

“I guess it’s like that everywhere.”

“I take it you’re new in town?”

“Yep.”

“You’ll get used to it. I’ve lived in Albuquerque my whole life.” She quieted down a little. “Trust me when I tell you, there are some folks you don’t want to get mixed up with around here. You’re a hell of a lot closer to the border than you were in Chicago, I’ll say that much.”

“Yeah, somehow I don’t think _Albuquerque_ has more than I can handle,” Jimmy chuckled.

“…If you say so.”

Jimmy thought about it for a minute as he took a swig.

Glancing over his shoulder, he remarked, “I saw your sign. How’s Ladies’ Night working out for you?”

“It draws in a few customers.”

“I take it the ladies are not your regular crowd.”

“How insightful of you.”

Jimmy looked around at the bar patrons again with a self-amused smirk. He received one or two dirty glances, but nothing else.

“Not the friendliest types around here.”

“Most people aren’t quite so talkative.”

“Yeah. That’s usually been my experience.” Jimmy seemed more entertained than concerned by the prospect. “Can I start a running tab?”

The bartender immediately scoffed. “What, you’re planning to come back?”

“Is that so surprising? Geez, you need a PR guy.”

She glared at him, but didn’t bother to argue. “Alright.”

“Alright.”

“Name?”

The question gave Jimmy a moment of pause.

He clicked his tongue. “Uh… Saul.”


	8. Investments

“Hey, Jimmy.”

“Hey, Kim.”

“Where you headed?”

“I’m on my way to 2 now.”

“I thought Lauren was doing 2.”

“She was. Now _I’m_ doing 2.”

“Alright. I’ve got something for Keith; want to trade? I’m on my way up to 4.”

“You got it.”

“Thanks.”

“Likewise.”

“See ya.”

“See ya.”

They wheeled their carts past each other.

Seventeen Fridays passed.

* * *

Kim had made it a habit of joining the usual suspects at the end of the week- and it quickly became just one of her many routines. She would stay out for an hour and a half, two at most. She would switch to club soda after two drinks. She would never be the last to go home. And she wouldn’t talk much.

Even still, one particular night found her more engaged than usual, as the conversation turned, unusually, toward work.

“Isaacson can bite me,” Burt declared brazenly, brandishing a drink in one hand. “If that old bastard wasn’t already dead, I would kick his ass. I mean that.”

“I think we all would,” said Ernie. “I think I spent all afternoon yesterday just sorting the files from that case. I’m literally getting blisters.” He glanced at Kim with a smirk. “You must be dying to pass the bar so you can start sending this grunt work downstairs, huh, Kim?”

“Oh?” Kim raised an eyebrow at the question. “Well. I don’t know. I would _not_ want to be one of the low-level associates breaking their backs over this one.”

“How do you figure?”

“Haven’t you heard Howard talk about it? This case is turning into a real disaster. I mean, it looks like a loser for sure.” It was an obvious assertion, at least to her, and she scoffed at the lack of response from the others. “Isaacson is a loser. Am I crazy? It’s not like their estate has any bargaining chips. Those shares are completely worthless. I don’t see how they’re planning to litigate.”

Burt chuckled. “Howard sure isn’t _pushing_ it like a loser.”

“Yeah, well, of course he isn’t. They’re paying us truckloads of money.”

“You mean they’re paying _Howard_ truckloads of money.”

“No. I _mean_ , they’re paying HHM. That’s _us_ , you know,” she said matter-of-factly. “Like it or not.”

“Meh.”

“Hey, our people know what they’re doing! We at least owe it to them to acknowledge that.” She jabbed a finger in Burt’s direction. “If I can show a little company loyalty, you can, too. At least _you_ get your weekends.”

“Ah. You’re just saying that because they’ve got you-” Burt choked that last part out, raising a fist to his mouth to cough, and earning a laugh from the others.

Kim glanced around the crowd with wide eyes. “…Is everyone thinking what I’m thinking?”

“He’s not driving,” said Donna.

“Yeah, he’s not driving.”

“What?” Burt set his glass down violently on the table. “You kidding me? I’m… I’m fine…”

Donna rolled her eyes. “How many beers have you had?”

He looked her over disapprovingly, then slumped back into his seat, not concerned enough to think about it too hard. “…I dunno.”

“You’re not driving.”

“I’ll call him a cab,” said Ernie.

Burt groaned loudly. “Alright, guys, come on…”

“It’s fine,” Kim cut in. She looked Burt sternly in the eye as she reached for her purse. “I’ll give you a ride. I need to go home, anyway.”

“I’m _fine_ , Kim, seriously.”

“No, you aren’t. I’m gonna give you a ride. Where do you live?”

“You don’t have to…”

“Near Ridgecrest, right? That’s on the way to my place. It’s not a problem.” She pulled cash out of her wallet to pay for her drinks, standing from the booth and forcing Burt to slide out for her. “Just take a cab here tomorrow and pick your car up. It’ll still be here when you get back.”

He tucked his hands guiltily into his pockets. “Agh… fine…”

“See? Was that so hard?” Counting out bills, Kim laid down her cash on the table, flashing a quick smile to the others. “See you guys on Monday.”

“Bye, Kim,” the others said in unison.

Burt followed Kim out to her car with obvious shame- only _just_ cooperative enough not to be dragged out by the ear. She tucked his car keys into her purse to ensure that he made it all the way into her passenger seat.

She did not waste any time getting out onto the road.

Burt stared out the window with a frown. “Seems like you always duck out early.”

“Yeah. I need to go to bed early…” she mumbled, half-paying attention as she leaned over the dashboard to make a turn.

“Damn. Do _not_ envy you.”

“Tell me about it.”

They were quiet for most of the drive. Burt rested his head against the window. Kim drummed her fingers against the steering wheel, reciting something under her breath.

Kim finally spoke up again when Burt’s place appeared in the windshield and she snapped back to reality.

“…Do you think we could lose Isaacson?”

Burt laughed. “How the hell should I know?”

“I just mean. If we can’t get in contact with the old CFO. I think they could drop us.”

“Kim.” He rested his head against the back of his seat, eyes closed. “I swear to God. If I see or hear the name Isaacson one more time before Monday… I am gonna puke in your car.”

Kim smirked. “I’ll tell you what: you puke in my car, you keep it. I’ll just take yours.”

“Tsch. Yeah. Nice try…” He leaned forward in his seat as he awkwardly struggled to take his seatbelt off. “I, uh… sorry about this. Again.”

“It’s okay. Like I said. It’s on the way.” Kim fished Burt’s keys out of her purse and tucked them into his open palm. “You good for the rest of the way?”

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Okay.”

Embarrassed, he rubbed the back of his neck and stepped out of the car, resting one hand on top of it to look at Kim one last time.

“See you on Monday…”

“Night.”

Kim waited outside until he made it through his front door.

And she drove in silence for the rest of the trip home.

She yawned as she pulled into her parking space. She took a moment to breathe before climbing the stairs to get to her apartment, and she braced herself before she turned the lights on in her living room.

The kitchen area was a mess, with various papers and notes overspreading the countertop beneath an open textbook from that morning. Kim rubbed her face with one hand and walked past it, down the hall into her bedroom.

The bright overhead light in her bathroom made her wince. She splashed some water on her face before bothering to wipe her makeup off. Her face wet, she rested both hands on her sink, taking a deep breath and looking herself in the eye.

She changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top for bed, but didn’t brush her teeth before stepping back into her bedroom. The bed was already made, the pillows soft and the comforters clean… she sat down on it for a moment, eyelids fluttering.

Then she returned to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee.

She spent the next few hours studying.

* * *

Jimmy had made it a habit of changing his clothes before stopping by Eddie’s for the evening. He hated his work clothes, and he _especially_ hated ties, which were like little nooses that anyone could choke you with at a moment’s notice.

None of the regulars seemed much interested in conversation, it turned out, but the bartender- whose name was Jenny, as Jimmy learned- was nice enough. Even if she lacked Merna’s sparkling personality, from back in Cicero.

He had a certain swagger walking through the front door that he had just about nowhere else. It was half the reason he showed up every week. As he strolled through the interior of the bar, he basked in it, even if nobody else seemed to appreciate his attitude.

To Jimmy’s surprise, he found a black-haired woman whom he actually knew pretty well, at least in a certain sense. She was sitting with a friend, and didn’t so much as blink when she laid eyes on him.

He approached nevertheless. “Lila? I… did not expect to see you here a second time. How’s it going?” He waved a hand to the pair of them. “Did you, uh… manage to find your way home last weekend?”

She exchanged a glance with her friend and then scoffed at Jimmy. “…My name is _Lola_.” She would probably have sounded more offended if her opinion of him was not already so obviously low.

Jimmy froze for a second, and he cupped his hands together, considering an apology.

“…Oof,” is what he said instead.

She turned away from him. “Asshole.”

“See you around.”

Nonchalant, Jimmy made his way over to the counter, where Jenny opened him a beer without any questions. He took a minute just to enjoy the atmosphere.

“Hey, tell me something.” Leaning into the counter on his elbow, Jimmy pulled his collar ever-so-slightly down, gesturing for Jenny to take a look. “Is there a tan coming along? Anything at all? You see it, right?”

She only needed a second to look. “There’s no tan.”

“Damn!”

“You should get one of those reflective sheets. Doesn’t that help with the chest tan?”

“I don’t know. I don’t need to look like _that_ much of a douchebag.” He considered it. “On the other hand, maybe I need a wax. Chest hair could be blocking the sun.”

“Oh, yeah, get a wax. That definitely won’t make you look like a douchebag.”

 “Hey, you don’t know. Maybe I could pull it off.” He patted his chest. “Besides, if I’m not reaping the benefits of all this sun, what’s the point? You’ve got no idea how much time I spend shirtless by the pool on a daily basis.”

“The less I know about that, the better, I think.”

“You’re breaking my heart here.”

“I’m weeping for you.”

Jimmy turned around in his seat as he took a drink, shooting a glance back at Lola near the entrance before scanning the rest of the bar.

“Things didn’t work out with that girl last time you were here?” asked Jenny. “You seemed like you two hit it off.”

Jimmy smirked. “Ah. Things worked out okay.”

“Oh, that’s charming.”

Making no attempt to defend himself, Jimmy spun back around on his stool to face Jenny once again.

“How many nights in a row have you been here, now? And I see you’re not looking to make friends,” she said sharply. “I gotta ask. Even if you’re new in town… what’s the point of coming _here_ of all places?”

Jimmy replied immediately. “Good question.”

* * *

The lights stayed on at the UNM law building even as the sun went down, and the afternoon stretched into the evening.

Kim was one of a dozen exhausted students there for the last class before the building closed up. Her face sagged as she rested her head against her open palm. Even the professor seemed more than ready to go home.

Even still, Kim wouldn’t allow herself to lose focus for a second. Her pencil only took a pause from its furious scribbling when her turn came to get grilled by the professor, who spent most classes tormenting his students at random in strict accordance with the Socratic Method.

When class finally ended, Kim was the only one who hadn’t already packed her things ten minutes in advance. Within moments, everyone else had already cleared out, leaving her alone with the professor in the one spare minute she had before he managed to escape as well.

“Excuse me? Professor Lopez?” she called out hurriedly, closing in on his desk as he slipped his coat on.

“Miss Wexler?” he replied tiredly. “How can I help you?”

“I’m sorry; I know it’s late… can you spare a minute?”

He groaned quietly, looking at her with some kind of exhausted desperation, and glanced longingly out the window before responding.

“…Yes, I suppose I can. Let’s try to be quick, though, okay?”

“I’m sorry to bother you. I won’t take up too much of your time.” Kim shook her head. “I just, um… I had a question about State v. Castrillo that I wanted to run past you.”

“Oh?” He widened his eyes with some surprise. “You seemed like you were prepared to discuss it at length. But, please. Go ahead.”

“Okay. So. The basis for the _cert_ petition was ultimately the question of whether the defendant acted under duress.”

“That’s correct…”

“Well, I understand that the question of immediate danger was raised for the initial incidents that the defendant cites in the few months leading up to the purchase of the firearm, before he moved away, since fear of future harm isn’t grounds for a claim of duress. But I was wondering about the fourth incident that was raised in the appeal- where the defendant’s car was shot up- which took place in a seventy-two hour window before the gun was purchased.” Kim absentmindedly adjusted the pencil resting behind her ear, her mouth moving faster than her brain. “They cited both Esquibel and Torres. Which means there’s precedent being cited for that window of time being _valid_ for a claim of fear of immediate harm with respect to a duress defense.”

Lopez thought about it for a few moments while Kim took a breath, and nodded as he started to respond. “Don’t forget, the distinction being made here-”

“-The plaintiff’s distinction is about the crime of possession. Right. Citing US v. Panter and People v. King. The argument is, that window of time is smaller because firearm possession would only be a defense against a threat of harm insofar as it is protects against an immediately present danger.”

“That’s… yes; that’s right, more or less.”

“Right. But that defense is based on decisions from other jurisdictions. Panter is a Fifth Circuit decision, right? And King is California?”

“Yes; California, I believe.”

“So the New Mexico precedent established in the case still holds the 72-hour window valid. There’s not actually any valid exemption to that window for firearm possession in New Mexico. Which is why the court ruled that the jury should have received uniform instruction on duress. But…” Kim bit her lip, working through it in her head as she spoke. “…but, the precedent from other districts is what raised the question about whether the instruction on duress should be changed for firearm possession. Not anything directly applicable in New Mexico.”

“…Well, hence the-”

“-Hence the _cert_ petition…” Kim scratched her chin.

“Exactly.”

“And even if the petition hadn’t been denied, it’s not like they could have revised the jury instruction ex post facto in a retrial for Castrillo. So it just would have established New Mexico precedent.”

“Also correct.” Lopez let slip an audible groan, which made him pause. “…Listen, I’m sorry, but… you clearly have a comprehensive understanding of the decision. I would always encourage you to dig into the possible implications of the case law we study, but… I mean, do you actually have a specific question, Kim? I don’t mean to be rude, but I was on my way out the door here. I need to lock up soon.”

“Yeah, I…” she trailed off, struggling to remember why she had gotten his attention in the first place. “…Well… I guess… I guess I… answered it. So. No, I… don’t have a question.” She rubbed the back of her head, suddenly intensely embarrassed, and looked at the floor. “…I… I’m so sorry for wasting your time.”

“It’s okay. It’s nothing to worry about. I know this kind of material can be dense, so it’s good to make sure you have your bases covered.” He tucked some papers into his bag, preparing to leave. “You always impress me with your initiative, Kim. Just please remember. You don’t have to be perfect. You’re here to learn.”

“I understand. I…” She remained still from her spot at the other end of the desk, speaking slowly. “…Have a good night.”

“Good night, Miss Wexler.”

She gathered her things silently while he waited for her at the door, letting her leave first so he could lock up behind them.

Put off by the exchange, Kim hung around in the hallway for a minute after, running through it over and over in her head.

She passed the custodian on her way out, who would be the only person to leave after her that night.

* * *

Jimmy found himself intrigued by one bar patron in particular, one of the few he had found that was social enough to sit up at the counter, and yet apparently not self-conscious enough to wash his hair.

Inconspicuously, Jimmy spent the better part of an hour trying to get a read on this other patron, a squirrely, unusually pale man with short, curly hair.

And as he did, he went through a number of beers, to Jenny’s obvious frustration.

“You’re starting to run up a serious tab here, Saul. You owe almost three hundred.”

Jimmy waved her off without a second thought. “I’ll pay it soon. Don’t worry about it. I just need a little time.”

“Time? Time for what?”

He gritted his teeth, glancing in both directions before mumbling, “I’ve got some money coming in. I’ll have it paid in a week or two. Like I said. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah. Okay. And in a week or two, you’ll just need a little more time, and then again the week after, and on, and on, and the tab will never get paid.”

“No, no, I mean it. I’ve got money coming in. Two weeks _maximum_. It’s…” He stopped himself, then leaned in closer. “I’ve got an inheritance payout coming in.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Inheritance, huh?”

“Yeah. Inheritance. My dad passed away.” He paused for emphasis, his expression dour. “Anyway, I’ll have plenty for you if you just gimme a week or two.”

“Hm.” Jenny made a face that Jimmy assumed was her take on sympathy. “Sorry to hear about that,” she grumbled.

“It’s alright. We weren’t that close. Trust me, if we were, I’d probably be raking in enough to buy the bar, not just pay off my tab.” Jimmy gave a wry chuckle as he took a sip of beer.

“No shit? Where’s all that money coming from?”

“Woolworth’s. You know, like, the department store? My good old great-grandpap got in on the ground floor back when they first opened. He knew the original owners and everything.” Jimmy shrugged. “Anyway, my dad finally cashed out our family’s shares there a few years ago, to the tune of a few million. But I never got involved in handling the family’s assets like my brother did, so now he’s getting all that money while I’m being left in the dust.” He pointed his bottle toward her with faux aggravation. “I’m taking home maybe twenty grand, if I’m _lucky_. You believe that? I could be buying plane tickets to the Bahamas right now.”

“What a rip.”

“Yeah, you’re tellin’ me. That asshole is making a fortune off my back.”

Jimmy took a drink and sighed, glancing surreptitiously to his side. The squirrely guy a few stools away was apparently very interested by this conversation.

Jimmy looked straight at him with a scoff. “Do you mind?”

“Sorry.” The man threw up his hands, momentarily surprised, then stopped himself. “…Did you say twenty grand?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Hey. Come on.”

“Back off, man, alright? This is none of your business.” Jimmy shooed him away with one hand. “And I don’t have any money on me right now anyway, so you can go sniffing around somewhere else.”

“Come on. What do you take me for?” The man, though obviously a little nervous, laughed out loud, sliding over into the bar stool nearest Jimmy. “I’m just asking. You were telling a story.”

“ _Personal_ story. Family stuff.”

The man rolled his eyes and leaned into the counter. “…Look, the only reason I’m interested is because you’re talking about an inheritance.” He smiled, just a little, with the corner of his mouth. “I happen to be good with that stuff. I just thought I could give you some friendly advice.”

“Advice? What, out of the goodness of your heart?” Jimmy scoffed. “Sure, buddy.”

“Okay, just hold on a minute.” The man pointed to himself. “I’m an accountant, alright?”

“You don’t _look_ like an accountant.”

“I’m not on the clock. You think I came here looking for a business opportunity? But listen,” he said coolly, still gesticulating with only one hand. “Just hear me out on this. If you’re smart about this money coming in, you can end up with _triple_ that twenty grand- or more- in a few months.”

“Yeah? You know that sounds too good to be true, right? How is _that_ supposed to work?”

“You just have to invest it properly.”

“…Give me a break.”

“I’m serious. It’s all about savvy investments. You just have to know where to _move_ your money.”

Jimmy drummed a finger on his bottle contemplatively. “…Yeah, I don’t know about that, man. I’ve got other stuff to worry about. I’m not so good with investing. And like I said; it’s twenty, maybe twenty-five grand at most. I need to use it to, like… pay my bills, and shit. I haven’t even settled on my _bar tab_ here, for Chrissakes.”

“What… your bar tab? Is that what you’re so worried about? Come _on_ , man. You’ve got to be kidding me.” The man rested his elbow on the counter with a groan. “You can’t pass up money like this over a- what was it, three hundred dollar bar tab? I mean, Jesus. I’ll pay that right now if it’s so important to you.” He shot a look to the bartender. “Settle him up for me. Three hundred dollars is _peanuts_ , dude.”

Jimmy looked at the ground sheepishly. “Ah, you can’t do that…”

“Sure I can.” The man grinned as he raised a hand to the bartender. “You got that, Jenny?”

She glared at him. “You’re settling his tab…?”

“Sure, sure. No worries.”

“Okay, then…”

Jimmy let out a loud sigh, swiveling over in his stool to face the man. “I just don’t get it. You’ve clearly got stake in this. What’s in it for you?”

“Alright. Listen.” Excited to have Jimmy on the hook, the man explained with some new energy. “If you let me move your assets around- just the money you have coming in- I can make a serious profit for both of us.”

“Both of us?”

“I’ll just take two or three percent. No more than that. When we’re done, I’ll bet you could wind up with close to a hundred grand, and that’s _after_ my cut.”

“…A hundred grand?”

“A hundred grand. _After_ my cut.”

“I…” Jimmy pretended to think about it, rolling his finger around the rim of his bottle. “…Uh, alright. Damn, I can’t argue with that. What do you need from me?”

“I would just need to move some of your assets around. Wouldn’t be any problem at all. We can take care of it right now.”

“Okay. But what do you need _me_ to do?”

“Oh, nothing much. I just need a name. Bank. Social security. That’s it. I will handle everything else.”

“Name, bank, social security.”

“That’s right.”

“Okay. Fine.”

“Did she say your name’s Saul?”

“That’s right. Whitcher. Saul Whitcher.”

The man pulled a pen out of his jacket, scribbling Jimmy’s info on a napkin. “Got it.”

“The bank the money’s coming through… I think, uh, New Mexico Bank and Trust.”

“Got it.”

“And you want my social security?”

“And that’s all I need.” The man tapped his pen impatiently. “And I’ll handle the rest.”

“If you say so.” Jimmy took a breath and nodded, staring off into the distance. “Okay. 078.”

“Okay.”

“05.”

“Okay.”

“1120.”

“Alright. Can I read that back to you?”

“Shoot.”

“078-05-1120. Is that right?”

Jimmy leaned into the counter. “…You really think you can get a hundred grand?”

The man sighed. “Buddy. I do this for a living. You can trust me.”

“Alright. I trust you, man.” Jimmy read off the napkin. “You got it right. 078-05-1120.”

“Great. Thanks, man. Thanks.” The man blinked as he took it in, folding the napkin and tucking it into his jacket. “You have no idea. This is going to be huge for you.”

“It sure sounds like it.”

“I’ll, uh.” The man wiped his forehead, laughing nervously. “…I’ll tell you what. I’m gonna get in contact with my, uh, firm. Right away. And we’ll be in touch.”

“You’re leaving now?”

“No time like the present, right?” He patted Jimmy on the shoulder. “We’ll be in touch, man.”

“Oh, I can’t wait.”

He nodded slowly. “This is… just…”

He was halfway across the room before he actually finished speaking.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Jimmy was the only one left sitting at the counter.

Jenny just shook her head, looking past Jimmy with disbelief. “…That was quite a sight.”

“Thanks.” Jimmy took a swig, an ambivalent frown on his face. “It’s, uh… been a while.”

“So I guess your dad’s not really dead.”

“He is. But I didn’t inherit shit from him.”

“That’s a shame. I’m sorry.” Jenny stumbled over her words a little. “Uh… about him, and about his inheritance, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Jimmy sighed. “Me, too…”

* * *

Kim and Jimmy usually took their lunch breaks at different times. Jimmy would usually take his with Ernie and spend it making small talk. Kim would usually sit by herself and study from a casebook.

That week she was finding it more difficult than usual, and her studying mostly amounted to staring at the page in front of her until her eyes burned through it.

As it happened, Jimmy had taken his break at the same time. He sat two tables away, with Ernie.

Kim pressed two fingers to her temple and tried not to get distracted.

A minute later, she marched over to talk to him.

Ernie spoke up first, surprised to see her approach. “How’s it going, Kim?”

“Hey, Ernie.” She took a seat across from the two of them without waiting for a response, her expression firm. “Would you mind giving me a minute with Jimmy?”

Ernie hesitated. “Uh…” He glanced over at Jimmy, who looked just as confused. “Yeah. No problem…”

Eyeing up Kim suspiciously, he pulled himself out of his seat and stepped away, taking a seat at another table without taking his eyes off the two of them.

Jimmy scratched his face, not giving much of a reaction. “What’s up, Kim?”

She folded her hands on the table in front of her. “…It’s _me_ , right?”

They exchanged a brief glance.

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s me.” Kim shrugged with both hands. “First, you wanted to be friends with everyone. You talked me into going out with everyone else. Then, after a month, you know… what happened, happened, and all of a sudden, you’re all business, we barely talk, and you have somewhere to be every Friday night.” She looked him straight in the eye. “It’s not like I’m upset, Jimmy. I get it. I’m _sorry_ about it, for my part, but I do get it. You feel weird around me.”

Jimmy nodded as he thought about it, and simply replied, “No.”

“No?” Kim crossed her arms. “It’s not me?”

“It’s not you. Not really.”

Apparently satisfied with the exchange, Jimmy continued eating, but Kim didn’t leave him be.

After a while, she asked, “Where are you always off to when the rest of us go out?”

Jimmy nodded again, contemplating for a minute or so.

Then he looked straight up to make eye contact with her, strikingly sincere. “Look. When I first got here, I was… I kind of hoped things would just kind of work themselves out for me. They didn’t. At the end of the day, I’m here because I want to do right by Chuck, you know? Prove to him that I belong here, and I can make it work, and everything. But for _my_ sake, I don’t want to have to just… justify being here to myself.” He hesitated. “Things made sense to me in Cicero. But here? I can’t just prove I _belong_ ; I need to figure out _how_ I belong. I need to know what I’m doing here, separate from Chuck… separate from everyone. I need to figure out what I’m doing, for my own sake. And I’m biding my time until I can make that happen, because right now, I honestly don’t have a damn clue.” Going back over it in his head, Jimmy shrugged, and added, “Don’t know if that makes any sense.”

Kim was at a complete loss for words for a little while.

She rubbed her upper arm. “No, I… I get that.” She considered it a little more, his words weighing on her. “Really… I _do_ get that.”

Jimmy looked her in the eye for a little while longer.

Then he returned to his lunch.

“I’ll see you around, Kim,” he said quietly.

“…See you around.”

She went back to her seat and closed her book, flustered.

* * *

Kim wheeled her mail cart all the way to Howard’s office, and held it there impatiently in front of his secretary’s desk as she waited for him to answer the door.

“I can take the mail, if you have it,” the secretary offered politely.

Kim smiled at her but shook her head. “No, thanks. I’d like to deliver it myself.”

“If you say so.”

A few minutes passed before Howard let her in, greeting her with an enthusiastic smile.

“Hi, Kim. How are you?”

“Just fine, Mr. Hamlin. Thank you. Uh.” Shaking her head, she reached behind her, offering him an envelope. “Here’s your mail.”

“Thanks.” Howard thumbed over it, then shot Kim an inquisitive- albeit friendly- look. “What can I do for you? I hope you didn’t feel like you had to wait for me just so you could deliver this.”

“No, actually.” Kim bit her lip. “Um… could we talk? Just for a few minutes? I know you’re busy, so if there would be a better time, then…”

“No. Now is fine,” said Howard. “…Come in.”

He closed the door behind her, and she walked straight for the set of chairs near the door, folding her hands on her lap. Howard took the seat across from her.

She left the mail cart outside.

“Is everything okay, Kim? You seem, er… nonplussed.” Howard narrowed his eyes as he tried to gauge her.

“I’m okay. I just was hoping to-” Kim stopped herself from getting off-track, and sat up straight. “You’ve been doing this for a long time. I wanted to ask a question about your experience with the law.”

Howard opened his hands, obviously curious. “…Okay, then. By all means. Ask away.”

“When did you know that you wanted to be a lawyer?”

She asked the question intensely- apparently enough to catch Howard off-guard, anyway.

He looked up at the ceiling for a few moments as he considered it. “Well, I… to be perfectly frank, Kim, I was _always_ going to be a lawyer. My father had been-”

“No, that’s not what I-” Kim sighed, straightening herself out. “Excuse me. But. I don’t mean when you knew you _would_ be a lawyer. My question is, when did you know that being a lawyer was what you _wanted_?”

She studied his face as he searched for the answer to that.

“I… hm.” Howard leaned to one side in his seat, and he took a long time to mull it over, though Kim never broke her gaze with him. “…My father… was not much help to me, when I was preparing to take his place here. And for a long time, especially as a teenager, I almost… _resented_ the idea of it. Of just sliding into this life that had already been laid out for me long in advance. Like an old pair of sneakers.” He nodded once, affirming it to himself. “Chuck. Chuck tutored me for the bar exam, and I couldn’t have asked for a better teacher. Not because of his practically encyclopedic knowledge of case law and civil procedure- though he certainly had that, too- but because… he has an underlying passion for the field that I had never seen before, that I found incredibly striking. Before Chuck, I don’t think I had quite considered the… human element of it. That the law is an avenue for us to… pursue a higher ideal. To work for some kind of net positive for our whole society. On a fundamental level, anyway, I think it was that experience, learning from Chuck, that really made me appreciate how profoundly fulfilling the law can be.”

Howard seemed contented by the thought, and stared off somewhere into the distance while Kim considered his words. In all honesty, she had only half-listened to him, though if nothing else it felt good just to ask the question.

With everything still sinking in, she didn’t know exactly how to respond right away, and barely managed a quiet, “Thank you.”

“…Kim.” Howard folded his hands on his lap, looking her over with a knowing smile. “Are you getting cold feet?”

Kim was smiling, too. Beaming, in fact.

She had never been surer of anything.

“Absolutely not.”


	9. Escort

It was another Friday night, and Jimmy had a new mark on the hook- an arrogant kid with money to waste, the perfect kind. The two of them sat around the corner of the bar counter, which was cloaked in orange light from the setting sun, pouring in through a tinted window. They both peered over one empty beer bottle, which had a twenty wedged underneath a stack of coins resting on top of it.

“Are you watching?” Jimmy asked with a smirk. “Blink and you’ll miss it.”

With a flourish, he raised his hand and dabbed the tip of his finger to his tongue, then whipped his hand downward. Sure enough, the bill slipped out without knocking the coins over.

“Oh, shit,” the kid said under his breath.

Jimmy tucked the bill into his wallet, which he then slipped into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Told ya.”

“How does it work?” He turned the bottle on its side, spilling the coins onto the counter.

The bell on the entrance rang as someone new entered the bar.

Jimmy grinned. “A magician never reveals his secrets, right? C’mon, now.”

“Bullshit. You rigged it somehow.”

“I didn’t rig anything.” Jimmy scratched his chin. “Let me give you a little advice, okay? From me to you. The key to betting is, you only take bets you know you’re going to win,” he explained, opening one hand. “You think people get rich on the stock market because they trust their gut? No. They don’t play the market. They _know_ the market.”

“You are so full of it, dude.”

“Hey, of the two of us, who’s richer than he was ten minutes ago?”

They exchanged a glance, and the kid shook his head, returning to inspect the bottle again. “…There’s gotta be some trick to it.”

“Double or nothing? How much cash you got?”

“Nice try.”

Jimmy leaned back in his seat as the kid tried to puzzle it out.

Someone else, whom Jimmy only caught out of the corner of his eye, took a seat at the counter, near the far wall. Jenny took his order.

Jimmy exchanged a glance with him- and to his surprise, recognized him. That squirrely-looking amateur from the week before, whom Jimmy had conned into paying his bar tab.

It took him a moment, but the man recognized Jimmy, too, and sat up with a furious look on his face as soon as he did. “Hey… hey! _Hey_!”

He stood from his stool, marching over to hover over Jimmy, who rolled his eyes. “Excuse me, kind of in the middle of a conversation here.”

“That’s rich.”

The kid shrugged at Jimmy with an open hand. “Uh, who is this guy?”

“Nobody,” mumbled Jimmy.

“ _Nobody_? Screw you!” The man slapped his hand down on the counter. “You ripped me off!”

“Yeah, says the guy who tried to steal my identity.” Jimmy looked up at him. “Hey, as I remember it, you thought my dad had just died. Don’t you try and claim the high ground on me.”

“Don’t pull this shit on me. You _lied_ , asshole.”

“Okay. Then we’ll call it even.”

“Like hell.” He jabbed a finger in Jimmy’s face. “You didn’t lose anything. I’m out three hundred bucks because of you.”

“What happened?” interjected the kid.

“Stay out of this!” the squirrely man spat, before directing his attention back to Jimmy. “You _owe_ me.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” said Jimmy.

They stared each other down again.

“…Seriously? You _seriously_ want to try and play me like this?”

“I’m not playing you!” Jimmy swiveled in his stool. “You slipped up. Take your licks and move on like the rest of us. Hey, if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll actually learn something-”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the man reached over the bar for the empty bottle, clutching it upside-down and smashing the bottom against the countertop.

Jimmy threw up his hands with wide eyes. “Jesus, alright, alright. Relax, Dirty Harry.”

“Yeah, okay, fuckin’ tell me to relax.”

The kid scoffed. “Dude-”

“Back off! This has nothing to do with you,” the man hissed, pointing the sharp end of the broken bottle menacingly toward the kid. Then he shot Jimmy another look. “Let’s settle up. Easy. Just three hundred even.”

“…I’m not paying you,” Jimmy replied matter-of-factly.

Jenny rested both hands on the bar from her spot behind the counter. “Hey. You’re gonna fight, you take that shit outside. I don’t need that in here.”

“Back. Off,” the man with the bottle commanded again, harsher this time.

Jimmy raised a hand. “It’s okay, Jenny. He’s just having a moment. Nobody is fighting.”

“ _You_ shut the hell up.”

“I’ll tell you what,” offered Jimmy, chuckling to himself and closing his eyes. “I’ll do it for three hundred bucks-”

The bottle ripped across Jimmy’s face before he could even get the words out. He rolled over a bar stool before hitting the ground.

Someone shouted up above. The guy with the bottle shuffled backward a few steps, his feet brushing past Jimmy’s hair.

Jimmy peeled his face off the floor. Something stung, bad; aside from his pride, of course.

He sat up and rested his back against the counter, one elbow resting on the bar stool where he had been sitting a minute ago.

Jimmy’s attacker, belligerent and probably a little drunk, shoved back another patron and thrust the bottle out in front of him, brandishing it like a knife. Jimmy clenched his fist tightly at his side.

He hadn’t been in a proper fight in years. Last time he had, his mother had bailed him out. He told her the other guy had started it, which was a lie. Fortunately, he’d gotten away with it, at least that time.

Red filled Jimmy’s vision, and he winced, wiping his face with his sleeve and staining it with blood. Dabbing his face with two fingers, he realized that a gash had been opened on his forehead, which was now streaming blood down his cheek and staining his eyebrow.

The guy with the bottle was now in some kind of shouting match with Jenny, who was apparently not interested in de-escalating things.

Jimmy pressed his hand to the counter and pulled himself to his feet, wiping blood out of his eye again. Nobody was paying him much attention anymore, as all the patrons around the counter were apparently too preoccupied by the fight brewing between them.

He took a deep breath. The bar’s music was still playing through tinny speakers. A pile of coins was still resting on the counter. Jimmy’s wallet was still tucked firmly into his jacket pocket.

He clicked his tongue, starting to remember why he had started coming to the bar in the first place.

And with a heavy sigh, he dragged his feet over to the other end of the bar counter, reaching over it to grab the phone.

He dialed quickly, and held the receiver to his ear with his head hung low.

“911. What is your emergency?”

“I… want to report a fight.” Jimmy’s words finally drew some attention, but he ignored them. “It looks like someone is about to get hurt. There’s a man swinging a weapon around. Could end up badly.”

Jimmy pressed his sleeve against the wound on his forehead.

“Someone has a weapon? Can you identify what kind of-?”

He hung up on them. All eyes were on Jimmy now, but he didn’t bat an eye.

The squirrelly man finally lowered his bottle, letting it hang at his side.

He locked eyes with Jimmy. “…You kidding me with this shit?”

Jimmy just glared, weary. “You should probably get out of here before the cops show up.”

“…Pussy.”

Though clearly not satisfied, the man apparently decided it wasn’t worth the effort to stick around, and stormed out of the bar, still clutching the bottle at his side.

Jimmy rejoined the others at the corner, wrist pressed firmly against his forehead.

“Didn’t see that coming,” said Jenny, meek. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. Sorry for the trouble.” With his free hand, Jimmy reached into his jacket and pulled out the twenty he’d won in the bet, leaving it on the counter for her. She accepted it with a look of concern.

“You… gonna be okay?” she asked quietly. “Should they bring paramedics or something?”

He didn’t take long to think about it, resting his hand on the counter.

“…Can you call me a cab?”

* * *

“This is going to sting.”

The doctor tending to Jimmy in the ER loomed over him with a cloth, dabbing Jimmy’s wound with disinfectant.

Jimmy gritted his teeth but said nothing. The doctor handed the cloth over.

“Keep pressure on it for just a minute.”

“Can do,” said Jimmy.

Murmuring under his breath, the doctor fumbled around on the desk for a minute or two before pulling out a clipboard, reading over it quickly.

“You said your name was James?”

“That’s right.” Jimmy gritted his teeth. “McGill. James Morgan McGill.”

“Could you spell that for me?”

“M-C-G-I-L-L.”

“Okay…” The doctor scribbled something down. “You taking any blood thinners or other medications?”

“No.”

“Any medical issues I should know about? Heart condition? Hemophilia? Anything like that?”

“No.”

“And how did you get hurt exactly?”

“I was in a fight.”

“Right. You were struck with a weapon?”

“A bottle. Broken bottle. Jagged edges.”

“How do you feel?”

Jimmy stared at the doctor with disbelief. “I _feel_ like I got hit in the face with a bottle.” He blinked. “Can you just tell me what you need me to do so I can go home?”

“I need to evaluate your condition. Now is not the best time to get impatient, Mr. McGill.” Shaking his head, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small flashlight, which he poked in Jimmy’s face in order to flash it in his eyes. “You don’t appear to be concussed, and nothing is dislocated, so those are both good signs. Do you feel light-headed?”

“No. It just stings.”

“Good, good…” He took the cloth from Jimmy, walking it back over to the sink. “So… here’s some good news. I know the laceration looks pretty bad, but the bleeding has gone done significantly, so it’s really not that serious. We are going to be able to get away without stitches today.” Adjusting his gloves, he marched back over to Jimmy, flashing a stern look like a disappointed parent. “That said. I have to emphasize that this is _not_ something to take lightly. If you got hit two inches lower, we’d be having a very different conversation right now. All things considered, you got lucky. _Very_ lucky.”

Jimmy groaned. “I know.”

The doctor narrowed his eyes.

“You said you don’t have insurance, is that correct?”

“I said I’m not going through insurance. It’s not a big deal. I’ll pay cash before I leave here.”

“And you don’t have anyone you want us to contact?”

“No.”

They exchanged a glance.

“James… it’s not my place to judge-”

“-No, it isn’t,” Jimmy snapped.

Despite his obvious attempts to quash the discussion, the doctor carried on, shooting Jimmy an unimpressed frown.

“I see patients in a very similar situation to yours all the time. Usually, it’s people who never wanted to see a doctor in the first place. And believe me when I tell you, it gets worse than this.” He looked at Jimmy pleadingly. “That kind of situation… it’s not sustainable. You could be putting yourself in real danger.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Jimmy rubbed two fingers against his temple as he grumbled. “Listen… I am way ahead of you. _Way_ ahead. Alright? But… I’m just… tired.” He rested both hands on his knees. “Had enough lessons for today.”

* * *

Left with no better way to spend his time, Jimmy decided to lay low for the weekend. After all, he had little to do aside from changing his bandages and twiddling his thumbs as he waited for Monday to arrive again.

He had only just broken even after settling his tab from the bar. He’d been saving money from work, but it was a slow process, considering most of that got eaten up just paying bills- particularly the (admittedly expensive) rent on the Beachcomber.

On Saturday afternoon, he took a cab to a pawn shop.

He lurched inside with the same defeated expression he had had the night before.

“Hey! Something you’re looking for?” the man behind the counter asked, pretending to be cheery as soon as he spotted a potential customer.

“No,” Jimmy said gruffly. Walking straight up to the counter, he scratched his chin, hesitant to say anything. “I just need some extra cash.”

“…You didn’t bring anything in…”

“I brought something.” Jimmy rubbed his wrist underneath his sleeve, making a pained expression.

The man behind the counter just watched and waited.

“I… here.” Jimmy bit his lip, hesitating. “It’s… a Movado,” he mumbled, pulling up his wrist and removing his watch to rest it on the counter. “Last time I got it looked at, I was told it could be worth seven hundred bucks.”

The clerk inspected the watch carefully “And when is the last time you got it looked at?”

“…1985.”

Jimmy watched glumly as the man turned the watch over, checking it for damage.

Apparently satisfied with the inspection, the clerk set the watch down on the counter again and took a second look at Jimmy. His eyes focused on the gash on Jimmy’s head, which was now only held together by a few small adhesive strips.

“This is _yours_?” he asked with obvious suspicion. “I… really don’t want any trouble here.”

“It’s mine.” Jimmy rolled his eyes. “Tell you what.” Holding up a finger, he reached into his jacket to pull out his wallet, showing his driver’s license to the clerk. “My name is Jimmy. Anyone comes looking for this watch, now you know who to come after.”

The clerk wavered for a moment. “…Alright. Fair enough.” He shrugged. “I’ll give you five hundred even for it. That’s about as much as I can offer.”

“Fine. I’ll take cash.”

“Deal.”

Jimmy stuffed the bills into his wallet with a grimace.

“It’s a really fine watch, you know,” the clerk said with a frown, dangling the Movado in front of him. “Why would you want to part with something like this? It could get rare if you hung onto it.”

“You need to ask?” Jimmy’s eyes darted up from his wallet. “Like I said. I need cash.”

“Still, though.”

“You trying to talk me out of this or something?”

“No, no…”

“What good is a watch? A flashy one, anyway. I just don’t need it.” Jimmy pulled his sleeve back down over his wrist. “Shouldn’t have it.”

* * *

Monday came and went. Jimmy put on a smile for work.

He got along with everybody as well as ever, for whatever that was worth- something he couldn’t quite make up his mind about.

He made his mail run early in the afternoon, and filled several mail trays in advance for the next day. He was out the door before the sun went down. He didn’t stop to chat with anyone on his way out of the mailroom.

His hands swaying at his sides, Jimmy stepped out from the elevator into the parking garage, taking in the sight of it. The whole garage was shady and dim, in a way that was kind of relaxing and off-putting at the same time.

He took a breath.

And someone stopped him before he got five feet out the door.

“Hey, there.”

Jimmy turned to find Kim leaned against the wall outside the elevator, a cigarette in one hand.

He watched her for a moment. “What are you doing?”

“I’m relaxing.” She exhaled smoke, resting her head back against the wall. “Much needed.”

That made him lighten up, just a little. “Amen.”

“Yeah. I’m taking the rest of the night off.”

Kim closed her eyes, holding the cigarette out in front of her and flicking the end of it with her thumb. Jimmy watched her silently for a little while, hands in his pockets.

He considered making his way the rest of the way through the parking garage, but decided against it with a shrug, instead leaning back on the wall beside her.

“Finally got a car,” he said gruffly.

Kim opened her eyes. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward a little to point it out, near the corner of the parking garage. “See it? The Escort.”

“The brown one?”

“That’s her.”

“How much did you spend on it?”

“Eighteen fifty. Had to scrounge some money together for it. And it’s got some miles on it. But it runs okay.”

It was unarguably a cheap-looking car, but Kim got a little pang of pleasure out of seeing it, anyway.

She smiled earnestly. “Good. Good for you, Jimmy.”

“Thanks.”

She studied him for a little bit, though he kept his eyes fixed straight ahead of him.

“That gash on your head looks nasty. What happened?”

Jimmy didn’t answer. Kim pursed her lips at him, then shrugged, non-judgmental.

She turned away again, placing her cigarette between her lips. “You doing okay?”

Jimmy ran two fingers over the butterfly strips on his forehead. “…I got a lot to figure out.” Then he tucked his hand into his pocket. “But yeah. I’m okay.”

They stood in silence for a minute. Jimmy watched Kim puff out smoke in the dark.

He pulled one hand out of his pocket to gesture with it. “I could really use one of those. You got an extra?”

She pulled it out of her mouth and looked at it. “Sorry. Just brought the one.”

They exchanged a glance. Jimmy looked out into the distance.

Then, without warning, he leaned to the side and reached across her, swiping the cigarette from her fingertips. Kim lolled her head to the side to look at him, and he took a drag on it without bothering to wait for her reaction.

She snickered at the boldness of it, but didn’t object.

“What are you doing for dinner?” she asked quietly, crossing her arms now that she had nothing to do with her hands.

Jimmy stared at the cigarette between his fingers, breathing smoke. “Probably gonna microwave something.”

“Have you been to that, uh… Santino’s? Off Central?”

“Santino’s? What, is that…?”

“Italian. Just opened. Been meaning to go.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Is that an invitation?”

“Nope. Totally arbitrary question. Nothing to do with anything.” She allowed herself a subdued grin.

They stood in silence for a minute. Pleased with herself, Kim reached over to swipe the cigarette back from Jimmy, who handed it over. She took a drag on it.

Jimmy rested his head against the wall. “Your car or mine?”

“Well, I gotta see the Escort, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Kim smiled, tapping on the cigarette with one finger and then letting it drop to the floor.

Jimmy watched her inquisitively.

“Okay.” She crushed the cigarette butt with her foot. “After you.”


	10. Breakfast

Jimmy and Kim stood shoulder-to-shoulder like suspects in a police lineup, wedged into the corner of the restaurant’s waiting area as every party smart enough to make a reservation got called ahead of them. They waited there for over an hour, and the sun went down outside as they did.

Neither of them seemed to mind too much.

“So this was six years ago now. Seven… maybe seven,” said Kim, tapping a finger to her chin as she considered it. “Actually, it was my first year out of college, so, yeah, seven.”

Jimmy snickered. “So they hunted you down right from the beginning. Lucky you.”

“Yeah, you say that, but that was my exact reaction, minus the sarcasm. I was _so_ excited. The day I got the letter in the mail, I went straight to the mall and bought a whole new outfit for the occasion. Spent, like, two hundred bucks on it.” She laughed, embarrassed with herself. “I still have it, actually, even though I haven’t worn it since. It’s this horrible green button-up… thing. Makes me look like Hillary Clinton. I should really donate it.”

“You shouldn’t have told me you still have it. Now I have to see it.”

“Well, that’s never gonna happen, ever, so I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

She said that with only the tiniest trace of humor, and so Jimmy decided against fighting her on it, despite his obvious, overwhelming curiosity. “So, what? You wore it to court?”

“Yeah. I wore it for juror selection. I showed up, dressed in this thing, with a copy of _War and Peace_ under my arm. I wanted to look… like, dignified. And open-minded.”

“ _War and Peace_? Did you actually read it?”

“Of course I read it. I mean, some of it. It’s the only thing I had to do for two and a half hours. Couldn’t sit still the whole time. But I guess it worked, since I got selected,” Kim explained with some pride in her voice. “When I showed up to court, everyone else there was twice my age. I think I was the only one there that didn’t have kids. Definitely the only one that didn’t have more important things to be doing. And I ended up keeping everyone there three hours longer than they needed to be.” She snorted at the memory, a little embarrassed, and yet evidently a little nostalgic, too. “I tried to _12 Angry Men_ them.”

“Huh?”

Kim shot him a look. “I tried to _12 Angry Men_ them! We deliberated for about five minutes before almost everyone was ready to convict the guy, except me. I made this whole show about reasonable doubt. Everybody hated me. I kept it up for three hours before they finally got me to fold and agree to a guilty verdict.”

Jimmy shrugged with both hands. “So was the guy guilty?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Guilty as sin, no question. Trust me, if I honestly believed the BS I was arguing about, we would have ended up with a hung jury. What, do you think I’d agree to convict an innocent man? No, I was just… posturing.”

“What did he do?”

“…Uh, he got really drunk and stole a couple of road signs. He was a repeat offender. I think he-”

“-Road signs? What, like…” Jimmy snickered. “Like stop signs?”

“Yeah. A yield sign, I think. And two street signs.” She chuckled. “So… y’know, it wasn’t exactly _Law & Order_ material. But I was invested anyway. I think I just liked feeling like part of the system.”

He flashed a mischievous grin. “Liked being the rebel? Going against the grain?”

She paused to consider it. “No. No, just… contributing. Grinding the wheels of justice. I dunno. Something stupid like that. But I thought it was gratifying.”

Kim had a little twinkle in her eye as she said that. Jimmy was stricken by that, and it gave him a moment of pause.

He hesitated, then gave a slight, dry laugh, looking away from her. “Shit… you should put that on your resumé.”

“Funny you should say that,” she replied. “Actually, I told this story to Howard. When I first interviewed at HHM.”

“No wonder they hired you.”

She shook her head. “I’m pretty sure he thought I made it up.”

He turned to lean his shoulder against the wall, looking Kim over. “I wonder if he still thinks that?”

“I dunno. But I’ve worked my butt off to leave him with a good impression of me.” Kim met his gaze. “…What about you?”

He blinked, caught off-guard. “Hm?”

“You ever done jury duty?”

“Oh. Nah.” He turned back against the wall, waving her off. “I got a summons once, a couple years ago. But…”

“…But…?” Kim hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“I…” he mumbled, fidgeting with his hands. “…Uh… I… pretended to be racist, to get out of it.”

“Oh.” Her face drooped a little. “…That’s kinda shitty.”

“Hey, I guarantee you I’m not the only one that did it. All the people in there…” Jimmy thought about it for a few seconds, growing self-conscious. “…Uh, but… yeah. It kinda was.”

He cupped his hands in front of him uncertainly.

“Do you know what the case was?” asked Kim, mostly just to break the awkward silence.

“It sounded like it was gonna be a big deal. A shooting or something,” he replied gruffly. “I think it was a murder case.”

“Ugh. I would have _killed_ to be on the jury for a murder case.” They exchanged a glance, and she waved him off. “…You know what I mean.”

“Oh, yeah, with that attitude, I’m sure you woulda been _just_ what they were looking for.”

They both chuckled at that, and Kim ducked her eyes with a smile, almost bashful.

“McGill? Party of two?” someone called out from the other end of the room.

“Holy shit,” Jimmy scoffed immediately. “I almost forgot we were waiting for something. I think I’ve got a beard going.”

The server frowned apologetically as the pair approached him. “I’m so sorry for the wait.”

“It’s not a problem,” Kim said swiftly, cutting ahead of Jimmy.

“I hope a booth is okay.”

“That’s just fine.”

“Great. You can follow me, then.”

Carrying two menus under his arm, he led them to a dimly-lit seating area in the back of the restaurant, seating them in a cramped booth near the corner of the room.

He straightened out his apron as they took their seats, glancing from Kim to Jimmy with a smile. “My name is Franklin; I’ll be your server tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink? Or if you’d like a minute to look at the drink menu-”

“-No need!” Jimmy declared brashly. “I will have a rum and coke. And the lady…”

Taken off-guard by Jimmy’s attempt to order for her, Kim snickered and shot him an amused, expectant look.

He trailed off, studying her carefully. “The lady… will have…”

Jimmy clicked his tongue, and the server frowned at the pause.

He turned to Kim. “Ma’am…?”

She just waved one hand without taking her eyes off Jimmy. “Oh, no; I am _way_ more interested in watching him try to guess, thank you.”

Jimmy stared at her for a little while longer, then gave a single, confident nod.

“The lady…” he hummed, “…will have a dry vodka martini. Stirred. Straight up… with _two_ olives.”

The server glanced at Kim. “Ma’am?”

She nodded passively. “…Um, yeah, that’s fine. Thanks.”

Scribbling on a notepad, their server shot them both another smile and then retreated to the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

Chuckling under her breath, Kim leaned into the table, resting on both hands and looking Jimmy in the eye. “That was… surprisingly detailed. Two olives specifically? Walk me through your thought process here.”

Happy to oblige, Jimmy cupped his hands in front of him, shuffling forward. “Dry vodka martini- you’re taking the night off, treating yourself. It’s classy. Mature. Not too sweet; not overdoing it. But still boozy enough to be worth ordering.” He opened his hands so he could gesture with them. “Dry, because it gets right to the point. Stirred, because it’s vintage, but not cliché. Two olives- because it’s luxurious, but not excessive.”

Kim was speechless for a moment. “…Wow. That is… really something.”

“And I nailed it, right? I nailed it.” Jimmy poked a finger at her. “Just try and tell me with a straight face that I didn’t nail it.”

“I probably would have just ordered a glass of red wine. But don’t worry; that was infinitely more entertaining.” She lifted up the menu to start looking it over, mumbling as an afterthought, “And I’ll be honest, it’s not a bad line.”

Jimmy pretended to scoff. “Line? You offend me.”

She briefly lowered her menu to look him in the eye. “You’re telling me you just came up with that? You haven’t used that vodka martini schtick on anyone else?”

“Ye of little faith! It’s like you don’t think I’m a good judge of character.” Still getting a suspicious look, he threw up his hands defensively. “Hey, as someone who has spent the better part of the last decade wasting his life in a bar, I can tell you with certainty that what you drink says a lot about what kind of person you are. And if it’s any assurance, the kind of women I have a lot of experience with- they… eh… have not been exactly, shall we say, the vodka martini type?”

“So you just made it up? On the spot?”

“What can I say? It’s like jazz. When I get going, I’m Herbie Hancock.”

Kim snorted, briefly covering her mouth with one hand. “So you are really talented at pulling stuff out of your ass.”

“Now _that_ I will admit to.”

She returned to the menu with a grin. Jimmy watched her with a smile for a moment before doing the same.

“Hey, did you see this, uh-?” Kim asked distractedly after a minute, holding up her menu to point something out to him. “‘Coniglio’? It’s braised rabbit. You think it’s any good?”

“Look, I’m not really an expert on fine dining,” he replied. “I figured we’d just order one gallon-sized tub of spaghetti and go at it _Lady and the Tramp_ -style.”

She smirked at that, lowering her eyes. “Be my guest, if you want to pay for a gallon of spaghetti. Will probably put you behind on those car payments, though.”

“Yeah, I guess I am gonna have to pay the check, aren’t I…?” Jimmy mumbled half-jokingly, letting out a sigh.

“Oh, wow; well, maybe I was being too presumptuous!” Kim looked coyly at her fingernails. “I mean, yeah, we can do separate checks on the first date if you want. We’ll just see how far that gets you.”

Jimmy didn’t respond to that right away. Surprised not to hear anything from him, she looked up at him and frowned, resting her elbow on the table.

“…I’m just kidding, Jimmy,” she said softly. “I’m happy to split the check; I didn’t mean to suggest-”

He sat up with alarm at the attempt to reassure him, quick to interrupt. “No, no! I was just- first date? What do you mean, ‘first date’?”

Puzzled, Kim hesitated before replying. “Uh… what do you _think_ I mean…?”

He stared disbelievingly for a second. “…I’ve already seen you naked.”

He squinted, and they both struggled to read each other.

“…So what?” asked Kim.

“So.” Jimmy threw out his hands in front of him. “That precludes a _first date_. That’s just common sense.”

“So how many dates have we been on before now?”

“That’s beside the point.”

“It’s literally the _entire_ point.”

Gritting his teeth, Jimmy glanced around the room, and perked up when he spotted the server approaching.

“Here,” he declared. “We’ll ask Franklin. He can tell us.”

“No, no-” Kim lowered her voice as she leaned into the table, giggling. “Jimmy, do _not_ ask him…!”

“Why? Because you know he’ll prove you wrong?”

The server appeared at the table before she could respond, setting down each of their drinks. “I’m sorry; you had something you wanted to ask me?”

Jimmy patted a hand on the table. “Yeah. Help me out here.” He glanced at Kim out of the corner of his eye.

She buried her face in her palm.

“This, uh…” Jimmy pointed to his menu. “The rabbit- how do you pronounce this-?”

“‘Coniglio’.”

“Right. How is it?”

“Oh, delicious. It’s fairly lean. Served with a garlic mushroom risotto. I can’t recommend it enough.”

“Good to know. Thanks.”

The server glanced at Kim with a polite smile. “Are we ready to order?”

She kept her eyes fixed on Jimmy. “I could use a few minutes. Thanks.”

“Take your time.”

Jimmy swirled his drink around in one hand with a toothy grin as the server left them again.

Kim just shook her head, cracking up.

“I still don’t know,” he sighed jokingly, taking another look at the menu. “I think rabbit might be a little gamey.”

“…I like gamey,” she countered. “When I was a kid, my dad used to bring buffalo to barbeques. Made hamburgers. I got a taste for it.”

Jimmy raised an eyebrow. “What, you can hunt buffalo in Nebraska?”

“I don’t know. He bought it ground from the grocery store.”

It was apparently a fond memory, and it showed on her face as she raised her drink to her lips.

Jimmy watched her curiously. “…Do you miss home at all?”

“ _This_ is home, Jimmy,” Kim said matter-of-factly. “I’m sure not leaving any time soon.”

“Bah. C’mon. You know what I mean.” He rested his elbow on the table, waving a hand around in circles. “You don’t ever get homesick? Miss buying buffalo down at the, uh, what did you call it…?”

“Hinky Dinky,” she chuckled. “And no, not really. -I mean, yeah, there are some things I miss. But for the most part, no. That was… a dead end for me. I think I always kinda knew that.”

That was a little dispiriting, or so Jimmy thought.

He drummed a finger on his glass. “…So… what _do_ you miss?”

“Hm.” Kim struggled with the question. “Drive-in movies. It’s a shame they don’t do those much anymore. But where I grew up, there was one theater that my parents took me to all the time.” She leaned into the table. “Wonder if it’s still open.”

“Family tradition, huh?”

“Yep.” Kim smiled. “I spent the night of my eighteenth birthday watching _Bear Island_ with my dad in the back of a pickup truck.”

“ _Bear Island_? What is _Bear Island_?”

“Um. It’s about a bunch of scientists that find a U-boat in the Arctic. Starred Donald Sutherland.”

“So, _not_ an island full of bears.”

“Unfortunately not.”

“Because I would watch the hell out of that.”

“Well, yeah, who wouldn’t?”

He laughed quietly without another word, looking down at his menu again.

Kim tilted her head. “…Do you miss Cicero?”

Jimmy didn’t seem to like the question. “I _shouldn’t_. ‘Bout time I start trying to make the most out of things around here. Carpe diem, right? Life takes you to unexpected places.”

“Yeah, you can say that again.” She gave a dry laugh.

They both looked away from each other.

“…Hey, Kim,” said Jimmy, though slowly in order to make sure he would grab her attention. “Why the, uh, change of heart? I mean, what made you want to… uh…?”

She nodded as she thought about it. “When you spend so long focused on one thing, it… it’s easy to lose track of your priorities.” She gestured toward the ceiling, as though the two of them were still in the HHM building. “A year from now, I’m gonna be working upstairs, in a cubicle. Carrying my bar card around in my wallet. After that… who knows?”

“Chief Justice of the Supreme Court?” Jimmy suggested.

She grinned. “I just think, somewhere in there, there’s gotta be room for me to just… enjoy myself. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

“So?” Jimmy folded his arms on the table. “ _Are_ you enjoying yourself?”

“Well, the martini’s a decent start,” Kim replied dryly.

“Aha! I knew I nailed it.”

“It’s not bad,” she admitted, albeit with a noncommittal shrug. “Nice change of pace.”

She took another sip, despite her lingering reluctance to give Jimmy the satisfaction. He relaxed into his seat as she did, looking her over with an expression that challenged her not to laugh.

“Yeah,” Jimmy mumbled. “Change of pace.”

* * *

The sun hadn’t even begun to rise when Kim awoke, enveloped in more than enough blankets for two people, which she was clutching for dear life. She felt momentarily guilty for hogging them, until she shuffled up against the headboard and realized that there was nobody there next to her.

Rubbing her eyes lazily, Kim slumped back against the pillows and glanced at the clock.

 _7:09_ _AM_. Her alarm wouldn’t even go off for another six minutes.

With an eyebrow raised, she shoved the blankets off of her, adjusting her tank top with both hands. “Jimmy?” she called out, getting no response.

Intrigued, Kim slipped out of bed and stalked into her bathroom, flicking on the lights and splashing water on her face. Her spare toothbrush lay on the sink next to her own, apparently having been taken from the cabinet underneath. Kim brushed her teeth with a frown.

She threw her hair back with both hands as she stepped back into the bedroom to make the bed, but she paused when she caught a whiff of something coming from the other room.

When she made her way out from the bedroom hall, she finally found him- fully dressed- standing over the stove in the kitchenette, whistling as he jostled around a frying pan.

Kim rubbed her eyes again. “Jimmy…?”

“Hey!” He whipped around in an instant, flashing a bright smile at the sight of her. “Sorry; I, uh… I raided your pantry. I guess I got a little ahead of myself. I woke up early, so…”

“Uh…”

He turned back to the stove. “How many eggs? Two? Three? I’ve got toast going, too. And I could fry up those sausage links you had in there, if you want. I was going to, but it looked fancy, so I thought maybe you got it for a special occasion or something.”

“Uh.” Kim cleared her throat, taking a seat at the counter as she struggled to make sense of the situation. “Uh, no. I’m just picky about sausage, I guess. No occasion. Fry ‘em.”

“You got it,” Jimmy declared. “How many eggs?”

“Three, of course. If we’re going for it, we might as well _go_ for it.”

“Now you’re speakin’ my language.”

Kim let out a loud yawn and leaned into the counter on both elbows, studying him with intense curiosity. Jimmy didn’t seem to notice at all, apparently laser-focused on the task at hand.

After a while, and without turning around, he asked loudly, “I didn’t wake you, did I? I was gonna shower, but I figured I should wait until you woke up.”

Kim frowned. “No, no, you didn’t…”

“Full disclosure, though. I _did_ steal a toothbrush from under the sink. I saw you had a spare. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, I saw. I don’t mind…” she mumbled.

“You want coffee? There’s a fresh pot.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“How do you take it?”

“A little cream and sugar. Uh, there’s some half and half in the fridge.”

“Got it.”

Resting the pan on the stove, Jimmy strolled over to the fridge to grab the creamer, pouring out a cup of coffee for Kim and mixing it in.

“Tell me when to stop.”

She stopped him almost immediately. “That’s good.”

“There you go.” He set down her mug on the counter in front of her. “Unfortunately, you didn’t have any OJ, so there’s gonna be an essential component of the experience missing.” Jimmy poured himself a cup of coffee next.

“Yeah, sorry, didn’t exactly plan ahead for… uh, this.” Kim cupped her mug with both hands, pursing her lips as she eyed him up. “Uh… look, Jimmy, I don’t want to pump the brakes on… whatever this is. I mean, it’s nice, but… y’know… what _is_ it?”

She peered at him from behind the mug as she took a sip.

He thought about it for a second, then shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s me trying to get the day off to a good start. I figured we could both use a little burst of energy this morning.” Drumming his fingers on the countertop, he sauntered over to the other side of the kitchen counter, standing a few feet from where Kim was sitting. “I’m turning over a new leaf. I’m doing something nice for somebody. I’m… I dunno, being a grown-up.”

That impressed her, and she hesitated to respond, opting for a wisecrack. “Well, I’ll tell you what; if it involves you making me breakfast, I’m on board.”

He raised his coffee mug to that. “Cheers.”

She raised hers in turn with a little smirk, taking a tiny sip. He smiled affectionately, and she settled into her seat with a deep breath, enjoying their comfortable little moment.

On a whim, she pulled her feet onto the chair underneath her, propping herself up to give her more height, and rested on her ankles. Then she leaned forward to kiss him.

He barely had time to set down his mug before she grabbed his collar and put her weight on him with a surprising amount of force. He took a step toward her to rest a hand on her side- partly just to keep her from falling off the chair.

With a breathy laugh, Jimmy started to pull away from her, and she held on to his upper arm with one hand to keep him there, forcing their lips together a second time.

Kim allowed herself to enjoy it for an extraordinarily long few seconds.

When she finally released him, Jimmy laughed again and took a couple of steps back with a flustered grin. “…Shit; if that’s what I get for making breakfast, I need to invest in an apron.”

Kim slumped down off her chair, collecting herself briefly and touching him on the arm again. “…Okay.” She met his gaze, her face sunny, and then moved past him, fingers trailing down his arm before falling away. “I’m gonna go wash up. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“Alright. Food’ll be waiting.”

He leaned against the counter, thunderstruck, as he watched her disappear down the hall into the bedroom. He grabbed his mug off the counter and took a sip, eyes absentmindedly scanning the apartment. With a deep breath, he turned back to the kitchenette, but paused as he took another look at the countertop.

Kim had left a textbook lying there next to a three-ring binder of hers. Jimmy turned over a page with his finger, admiring her handwriting. It was crammed full of notes- pages and pages of them, all next to incomprehensible to Jimmy. Months of work at the very least. It was hard not to be impressed… or insecure. And it took him a while to pull himself away from it.

Kim was running the sink in the other room. Jimmy touched two fingers to the still-bandaged wound on his forehead, mind racing, and returned to the stove.

He made the hell out of her breakfast that morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is probably a bit more angst-free than usual, but hey, we could all use a break once in a while.  
> Plenty of banter to compensate, though. People like banter, right? Well, I sure do write a lot of it at any rate :P
> 
> Thanks for reading as usual!


	11. Commencement

The McGill household was full of music- Boccherini, to be precise, or at least a single part from a Boccherini quintet. The lights were dim, the blinds partly closed, and the sun poured in through the creases, contrasting the artificial light with thin streaks of orange.

In the corner of the living room, Chuck sat perched behind his desk, one finger drumming on a tape recorder as he pored over a veritable mountain of documents. “Just as an aside, I want to note for the record that there is more to look into here; I had a discussion with some of the associates the other day…”

In the other room, Rebecca progressed to the minuet, the most famous part of her performance. Chuck stumbled over his words and gritted his teeth, resting his head on his hand.

“I…” He trailed off, eyes drifting above his desk toward the doorway. “I… recognize that we’re going to get a lot of pushback on this… but I would insist that it is worth pursuing the continuing enterprise exception; relevant case law being, er… Garcia v. Coe Manufacturing, as I mentioned earlier. That is specifically with reference to the employee records. I’m sure they’re prepared to argue against this, but considering the continuity of personnel from the beginning of the fiscal year- and you should be able to pull this from ’85 onwards- I believe we can argue definitively that corporate policy maintained Vakarian Holdings’ liability for…”

Rebecca hit a high note.

“Liability for… their previous staff… and there is no reason this shouldn’t reflect on their policy regarding shareholders…”

He hesitated for a moment and relaxed back into his seat, just taking a minute to listen.

Then he stopped the recording.

“Rebecca?” He stood from his desk, tracing over it with one hand as he moved past. “Excuse me?”

The music continued. Chuck made his way into the other room.

Rebecca looked alarmed to see him enter, and stopped playing immediately. “Oh? I’m not bothering you, am I?”

“No, no; I…” He looked her in the eye guiltily, taking a deep breath. “…Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but…”

“Ah. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” She lowered the violin to rest it on her lap, lips pursed.

“It’s just that I was dictating something for one of my paralegals. I’m afraid the sound might not come through well with music playing.” Chuck held his arms behind his back, rubbing his wrist with one hand. “Your time is no less important than mine. Let’s coordinate. Maybe we can take turns.”

“Okay. Fair enough.”

A little distracted, Rebecca pushed her chair back to make room to stand, preparing to put the violin away. Chuck looked her up and down several times, a frown plastered to his face.

“I’m sorry to ask; I know how busy you are,” he mumbled.

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” She only glanced up at him for a moment. “I’d like to at least get another hour or two of practice in this afternoon, but it’s nothing we can’t make work. You’re working on a brief?”

“It shouldn’t take me too long.”

“Just let me know when you’re done, okay?”

“I.” They exchanged an uncertain glance, and he lowered his gaze. “I don’t want to put you out. You go ahead. I can get my work done later.”

“It’s alright, Chuck.”

“No, no. I brought it up. I can wait for you.”

“ _Can_ you?” asked Rebecca with a raised eyebrow. “I know you have work piling up. You said yourself, it was a mistake to make plans this weekend. We both know, if you get behind, you’re going to be in a panic on Monday. I don’t want to put you in that situation just because you want to be polite.” She waved a hand. “Besides. You should make sure you have the time to spend with your brother tomorrow. I’m sure he’s been looking forward to it; it would be a shame to have to cancel.”

Chuck nodded slowly as he heard her out- she was right that he wasn’t keen to wait, but he’d made up his mind before she was even halfway finished speaking.

He checked his watch. “Let’s do this: I’ll head down to the office for a while and work there. It would be nice to have access to Westlaw while I’m doing this, anyway.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Oh, Chuck, for goodness’s sake…!”

He touched her gently on the arm, flashing a smile for the first time. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll make us reservations for tonight. At Seasons. How long as it been since we had a real date?”

“I am still happy to wait for you,” she sighed quietly, touching a hand to her face. “But… oh, yes, I could use a relaxing evening…”

“I’ll pick you up after I’m done at the office, then. How does that sound?”

He had already turned to leave, but glanced over her shoulder to wait for her response.

She just sighed again. “Okay, Chuck. Give me a call when you have a time.”

“Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

With narrow eyes, Chuck returned to his desk to collect his things, scooping up his cell phone off the counter.

On his way out the door, he opened the receiver, raising the phone to his ear.

“Howard? I’m sorry if this is a bad time, but I wanted to run something past you- after all, I can’t get in touch with a paralegal until Monday…”

* * *

At the Beachcomber on the other end of the city, another McGill stood in his kitchen with a beach towel draped around his shoulders, opening the blinds to let the sun in. He took a bottle of Old Style in each hand with an impish grin and opened them both against his countertop, making his leisurely way out the front door. It was an unseasonably warm Saturday afternoon, and as usual, Jimmy, dressed in nothing but a pair of green trunks, was intending to make the most of it by the side of his pool.

On this particular day, Kim was already down there waiting for him, stretched out on a sun lounger in a blue-and-white-striped bikini.

They were the only two people anywhere near the pool, probably owing to the fact that it was the middle of autumn.

Jimmy nodded approvingly at the sight of her as soon as he set his bare feet on the pavement. “Oh, good, you found yourself a chair. ‘Cause you’re gonna want to be seated for this.” He used his foot to pull a second lounger up next to hers. “All the way from the great state of Illinois.”

She squinted at him through a pair of wide-rimmed sunglasses, raising one hand above her head to block the sun. “You sure know how to build suspense.”

Grunting, Jimmy slumped into his own chair, reaching an arm to his side out to hand over one of his two beers.

Kim took a sip. “…Okay, well.” She smacked her lips. “Yeah, it tastes like a cheap regional beer.”

“Wow.” Jimmy took a sip of his own with a relaxed smile. “Here I am, baring my soul to you, and you can’t even be bothered to spare my feelings.”

“Sorry. I meant, ‘Wow, that’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted’.”

“Damn right.”

Snickering, Kim nestled back against her seat and closed her eyes, resting one hand behind her head.

“So? What do you think?” Jimmy asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “This is pretty nice, huh? An afternoon with Jimmy has its perks.”

She sighed comfortably. “I have to admit, I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”

“Yeah… neither would I, but they’re draining my pool any day now.”

“Ugh! What about your tan? This is an outrage. You should protest.”

“Heh.” Jimmy held his arm in front of his face to inspect it. “I’m starting to think that may be a lost cause.”

“You said it, not me.”

She dropped her head to one side to look at him, a wide grin revealing her white teeth. Her hair fell over her face, and she brushed it to the side.

Jimmy didn’t return the look, instead closing his eyes and resting a hand behind his head. “So, how was class today?”

“Ugh. Long. I’m gonna be swamped with work tomorrow. Probably all week.” Kim turned again to look out over the pool, rolling her eyes. “Contract law can be really… mind-numbing.”

“Really? But it sounds so _very_ fascinating.”

“Funny how that works, right?” She took a sip of beer and pouted, shuffling back in her seat a little. “Eh. But I feel bad complaining.”

“You’ve been busting your ass. I’d say you’re entitled to vent once in a while.”

“Still. Busting my ass on someone else’s dime. I should be counting my blessings.”

Jimmy gave an incredulous laugh. “If I were you, I’d wait until I was actually working for them to start worrying about that. After all, one day you’re gonna be making them more money than they ever spent on you.”

“Fair enough.” She looked over him warmly again. “…Anyway, point is, I’m probably gonna need to head home early. Want to get some work done before bed.”

“What about dinner? Want me to order something? I thought we could get takeout.”

“That’s fine. Just do it relatively soon.”

“Maybe we could just eat at the restaurant. Call it a night from there.”

“We could, but then we’d have to take two cars and drive up separately.”

They exchanged a glance.

“Okay. Takeout,” said Jimmy.

Kim nodded approvingly. “What are _you_ doing tomorrow? Any plans?”

“Oh, boy,” he replied with an exaggerated groan. “Yeah- I invited Chuck to lunch. Which means tomorrow is the next chapter in the ongoing saga of me trying not to make an ass out of myself in front of my brother.”

“Gee, that’s a little pessimistic, don’t you think? You really don’t think you’ve made a good impression?” Kim lowered her sunglasses and turned again. “You’re doing great at HHM. I mean, you even said yourself; Howard really seems to like you.”

“Howard doesn’t know me. Not like Chuck, anyway.” He snapped his fingers dramatically. “But I’ve got a plan. Chuck never got to see my car. So tomorrow I can drop that on him. I’ve been telling him for months I would be getting one.”

Kim smirked but held her tongue, somehow endeared to him and exasperated with him at the same time. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she looked away, raising her bottle to her lips.

“…What?” demanded Jimmy. “What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing.” She rolled her eyes, out of sight under her sunglasses. “He’s your _brother_ , Jimmy. He loves you. You second-guess yourself too much.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” He shrugged. “…Alternatively, maybe not second-guessing myself _enough_ is what got me here in the first place.”

His tone made her reluctant to pursue the point.

“Well, either way, let me know how it goes on Monday,” she said instead.

“Yeah. Likewise,” he replied distractedly.

Kim scoffed. “…Likewise? What, you want me to tell you about my law school homework?”

“I’m sure it’s interesting. You know- contracts, and… clauses, and… you know.”

“Jimmy, no offense, but I don’t think even _you_ could make that story interesting.”

He threw up his hand. “And you wonder why I second-guess myself!”

Kim choked with laughter in the middle of a drink.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow at the sight. “You don’t seem to have any problem drinking my cheap beer.”

“It’s growing on me.”

“Mhm.”

Without another word, Jimmy cupped his bottle with both hands and looked straight up at the sky, taking a deep breath.

“Jesus, look at this weather,” he mumbled.

Kim glanced up and brushed some hair out of her face. “Warm front. It’ll start getting cold soon.”

“Yeah, well, it’s warm now.” His head drooped to the side so he could look over at her. “You know something? Six months ago, if you’d told me _this_ is where I’d be right now, I wouldn’t’ve believed it.”

She thought about that for a while. “…Me neither.”

Jimmy chuckled under his breath.

Kim let her hand hang over the side of her chair and reached over just far enough to touch him, tracing her fingers over his wrist.

* * *

Jimmy wore his work clothes the following afternoon, complete with a tie, which he had taken special care to put on correctly.

He hovered anxiously outside the entrance to his brother’s house. It took three rings of the doorbell before anybody answered.

He clasped his hands together before his brother could even get a word out. “Hey, Chuck! Looking good, buddy.”

With open arms, he stepped into the doorway and assaulted Chuck with a hug.

Chuck patted him on the back. “Jimmy! You’re… early…!”

“Shit, am I?” Jimmy released him roughly, patting him on the shoulder. “My bad. I guess I left in a hurry to beat traffic, and then I didn’t run into any.” He checked his watch with a frown.

“It’s okay, I suppose… I was just finishing up getting ready anyway.”

Chuck peered back inside for a moment. Violin music echoed from inside the house.

“Is that Rebecca?” Jimmy looked over Chuck’s shoulder. “Damn. Sounds nice.”

“Yes, that’s her. I suppose you’ve never actually heard her play before.”

“Nah, not until just now. But, wow.” Jimmy made finger guns. “Like I said- you got a good one.”

Chuckling awkwardly, Chuck closed the door and adjusted his cuffs, remarking, “Listen, Jimmy, I don’t want to be rude, but let’s not dawdle. I have a lot of work I need to get done tonight.”

“Oh…? Yeah, no problem. Let’s get out of here.” Jimmy rocked on his heels as Chuck locked up. “I’m glad we got the chance to do this… I’ve been waiting to show ya. I don’t know if you saw the car in the parking lot at HHM…”

“I don’t think so. I haven’t paid much attention.”

They walked side-by-side down to the street, where Jimmy’s Escort sat waiting in all its underwhelming glory.

“So, I know it’s been a long time coming, but… what do you think? Not bad, huh?” Jimmy asked eagerly.

“So this is it?” Chuck put his hands on his hips, studying the car as he circled it to enter the passenger seat. “Well, I’m impressed, Jimmy! What a pragmatic choice. It’s certainly not what I would have imagined you getting…”

“Yeah, I know. I loved my old Cutlass. Back then, though, I used to ride around in that thing imagining you down here driving a Lamborghini.” Jimmy settled into the driver’s seat next to Chuck, gripping the steering wheel and getting lost in thought. “Of course, with this, it was just a matter of what I could afford on the mailroom salary.”

“That’s something to be proud of! Come on, now. A big purchase like this, all your own, all earned with your own hard work and your own two hands?”

“I thought you’d like it.”

“Of course I do.” Chuck sighed before continuing, rocking in his seat as Jimmy took off down the road. “And listen. Jimmy. Who knows what the future holds? Your next car could be twice as nice as this one. What matters is that you’re really taking the steps to make something of yourself. You won’t be at HHM forever. But it’s a valuable life experience that you will carry with you.”

Jimmy’s fingers drummed on the side of the steering wheel. “…Wasn’t that from your law school commencement speech?”

“What?”

“The speech you gave. When you graduated at Georgetown. ‘We don’t know what the future will bring, but you will carry this life experience with you forever.’ Something like that.”

Chuck stared, at a loss for words. “…I can’t believe you’ve heard that.”

“I haven’t. All I know is what Mom’s told me about it. But I remember that- I remember thinking that it sounded like exactly the kind of thing you’d say.”

“Well. The sentiment is true.” Chuck nodded affirmatively. “It’s what I’ve always said. Isn’t it just what I’ve always said? Success takes time. There are no shortcuts. But as long as you are committed, and you put in the work you have to put in, success will find you.” He gestured to Jimmy with one hand. “If you are committed to amending the mistakes of your past, then you are exactly where you should be. That alone is something to be proud of. I always knew you were capable of it, if you just stopped and considered it.”

“I know. I know I’m capable. And I’m sure as _shit_ dedicated, believe me on that.” Jimmy chuckled halfheartedly. “I guess my problem is just… I mean, I know I have to start somewhere. And I’m happy to have the opportunity. One-hundred percent. I just… I’m not sure what success even means for me right now.”

“That’s exactly the point of what I told you, Jimmy. That’s the value of these life experiences. Your highs _and_ your lows.” Chuck looked Jimmy in the eye. “The question is, what does success _look_ like to you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope any American readers had a nice Thanksgiving! Today was a fairly Chuck-heavy chapter- remember to give your family some love in the spirit of the season!
> 
> Here's a neat little fun fact I found while I was working on this chapter. There's actually a tiny anachronism in the mailroom flashback from episode 6 of season 4- specifically the case law that Kim mentions in reference to the Isaacson case (Garcia v. Coe Manufacturing), which was settled in 1997, even though the scene in question takes place during 1993! Here I am stressing about making sure that I don't reference any case law that isn't period-appropriate and yet I ended up having to do it anyway just to stay in line with the show's canon. Oh, well :P  
> Okay, well, I guess the fact is not really that fun now that I'm describing it, but I thought it was interesting anyway! Sometimes you find stuff like that when you are overly meticulous/obsessive/nerdy like I am :P
> 
> Thanks for reading as always.


	12. Picked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With the kind of prequel fic I'm writing, which is ultimately based on the small flashbacks and glimpses into the past that we get in the show, it occurs to me that there are going to be numerous points where my story intersects with the story beats from those moments. I definitely don't want to retread or rely on those scenes, but I don't want to gloss over them, either- the goal is to be compatible with the show's canon, after all. Instead, I'm just going to make note of where those scenes intersect with my fic (and I will go back and add such clarification to chapter 4 as well). It's not required re-watching or anything, but it might help to compliment the story or contextualize certain events.
> 
> This particular chapter was written with the cold open flashback from S4E06 (Piñata) in mind and takes place not long after that time. (That is to say, this chapter takes place a span of several months after the previous one, in early 1993!)  
> I hope this makes things a little more cohesive and interesting :)
> 
> Thanks for reading as always.

It had been over a decade since Jimmy had last set foot on any school grounds, and he quickly discovered that he felt no more at home there than he ever had, even if he was considerably more motivated than he had been back then.

He was next on the list in the college’s admissions office, the waiting room of which he had been sitting in for the better part of half an hour. The only other person there was a short, bespectacled, eighteen or nineteen-year-old girl, who hadn’t looked up at him once the entire time.

Tired of twiddling his thumbs, he reached down for the coffee table to grab a pamphlet, ostentatiously titled ‘Where will you take your future?’ The cover featured a crowd of smiling teenagers grouped around a study table.

Jimmy rolled his eyes and set it back down on the table.

“Hey.” He gestured to the girl sitting a chair away from him, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “How’s it going?”

She glanced up for barely half a second. “Uh, hi.”

He clicked his tongue and nodded, staring dully at the coffee table.

“‘Waiting is the hardest part,’” he said.

She took a second to process that. “…What?”

“It’s Tom Petty. _Hard Promises_. Really, you–? …You know what, never mind.”

Jimmy waved her off. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“What’cha doing?” he asked. “Transferring?”

“Yeah. I’m going to UNM this fall.”

“That so? I have a friend who’s going there.” He half-shrugged. “I mean. Law school. Not undergrad. But still. It’s a nice school. So I’ve heard.”

“Uh huh.”

“Are you a freshman?”

“Junior.”

“Junior. Nice. So, did you get your associate degree here, and then…?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. Good for you.” Jimmy smiled. “College years… cherish ‘em. Crazy times… I’ll tell ya, best years of my life. Or at least, it felt that way at the time.” He looked at his hands. “Things were a hell of a lot different ten years ago, though, I’ll say that much. Those were the early Reagan twilight years… things weren’t like they are now. You couldn’t get away with the same kind of shit today that we did back then.”

“Uh. Okay.”

“I have to say, I envy you. You’ve got all this opportunity.” He poked a finger in her direction, though he looked past her. “I mean, you’ve got nowhere to go but up… you know?”

He folded his hands together and sighed. The girl hesitated.

In the pause, she looked him up and down, shuffling back in her seat a little, and gritted her teeth. “…Are you hitting on me? What are you, like, forty?”

Jimmy sat up with alarm. “What? _No_! –I mean, to either! Agh, no!” He glanced at her again and scratched behind his head. “And, uh, _ouch_ , by the way.”

She scoffed.

…He went back to twiddling his thumbs.

It took a few more minutes before someone poked their head out of the office door to rescue him. “McGill?”

Jimmy perked up immediately. “Yeah! That’s me!” On his way out, he jabbed a finger at the girl still waiting there. “Hey. Have a nice life. Stay in school.”

The girl just glared at him.

Another student passed Jimmy on his way out of the office, shooting Jimmy a puzzled look.

Jimmy hurried to shut the office door behind him.

“James? That’s you, right?” The admissions director was a woman not much older than Jimmy, though her frizzy bob cut and librarian glasses did make her come off as more authoritative.

“That’s me! Jimmy’s fine.”

“Mindy.”

“Mindy! Nanu nanu. Heh.” Jimmy shook her hand, quickly scanning the room behind her for anything icebreaker-worthy.

He settled on her tackiest decoration, a cat poster subtitled, ‘Hang in there, baby!’

“Cute poster!” he exclaimed, taking a seat on the opposite side of Mindy’s desk. “I love cats, myself.”

“Me, too!” She adjusted her glasses and smiled at him. “I have three.”

“Well, you can never have too many! What are their names?”

“Oh, um. Alfie. His sister is named Bella. And Samson, but he’s just a kitten. My boyfriend got him for me for Christmas.”

“Agh. That is too cute.”

“Mhm.” She grinned at the thought, and it took her a minute to remember what they were doing there and collect herself. “…Um, so, what can I do for you, today, Jimmy?” She sifted through some papers on her desk as she spoke. “You spoke with us on the phone, is that right?”

“Yeah. That’s right. I think there were some clerical issues. No big deal,” said Jimmy with open hands. “I thought I could clear some things up in person.”

“Okay. Well. We’ll get right to it, then.” Mindy flashed him another smile, then picked up her papers with both hands to read off them. “It says here you are transferring with one hundred and two credits, and you’re registered for two of our evening classes. It looks to me like you’re all good to go.”

“Right, but, ah. See. This is what I was talking about with the guy on the phone.” He pointed gently over the desk to the sheets in her hand. “I should be transferring over a hundred and fourteen. _Fourteen_. You have my transcripts there, right? I know how busy you guys are, so I think something maybe you might have just mixed something up…”

“Oh. Yes, I see what you’re referring to.” She pushed her glasses up. “…Nope, one hundred and two is right. Where are you getting the other twelve from?”

“It’s four classes; they aren’t-” Jimmy stopped himself. “Listen, I do understand that there were some… disagreements… about the transfer process, but I earned a full hundred and fourteen before coming here, which only puts me two classes from graduation.”

“I believe this was already discussed with you, wasn’t it? Some credits aren’t able to transfer over according to our admissions policy. I’m very sorry if this wasn’t communicated properly to you-”

“It’s not a problem with communication. I hope you don’t think I don’t, ah, respect your policy, or anything. It’s just… I think, academically speaking, it’s not representative of the achievement presented. I mean, don’t get me wrong; I absolutely consider myself to be a lifelong learner…”

Mindy raised an eyebrow. “…That’s why you’re taking Beginner Pottery?”

“…Ah. Yeah. I mean.” He floundered for a moment. “Pottery is really foundational art. The Mesopotamians did it, you know.”

She smirked for a moment. “Listen. Jimmy. I understand your situation. Really. You can relax with the, uh, hard sell.”

He considered defending himself further, but decided against it, instead just slumping back into his seat. “…Sorry. Kind of went on autopilot there.”

“It’s okay.” She frowned and took a deep breath. “Look. I know it’s frustrating to feel like some work is being overlooked. But think about it this way: you can work through the missing credits over the course of the year without interrupting your schedule at all. It will be over before you know it. I can even help you register for another class or two this semester, if you want.”

“I get it. I know what you guys said before. Just hear me out, okay?” Jimmy rubbed two fingers against his temple. “I’ve read your policy on credit transfers. This stuff is all at _your_ discretion. And outside of my missing six credits, I completely meet the requirements for graduation. It’s just little stuff.” He snapped his fingers. “Statistics 200. That meets gen ed requirements. It’s a full semester of work. And I passed!”

She scanned Jimmy’s transcript for a moment. “You got a 72.”

“Yeah! 72! That’s a C. Passing grade.”

“A C minus doesn’t typically transfer.”

“But you can make an exception,” Jimmy groaned. “Okay, I know I’m a lab course short. I _know_ there are a few inconsistencies here and there between what you want and what _they_ wanted. But it’s nothing you can’t make an exception for. Before I dropped out, I was a _hair_ short of graduating. The headline here is, that transcript represents almost seven and a half semesters of work. You have to take that into consideration. I _earned_ those missing credits.”

“Okay, so, why did you drop out in the first place?”

“…I made some bad life decisions. It’s true. I don’t have a letter of recommendation to show for my education. It didn’t end well. I’m not hiding from that.” Jimmy looked her in the eye with gritted teeth. “Even still, the evidence of the work I did is there. And I’m just trying to capitalize on it so I can move _forward_ with my life. I can’t afford to spend another three semesters doing this. I’ve got a full time job. Real, meaningful employment. Isn’t this exactly what you guys insist is the long-term goal for students? Aren’t I entitled to some consideration for that?” He waved a hand at her. “You have my résumé right there. Check for yourself. I’m not talkin’ about flipping burgers here.”

Mindy opened her mouth to object, but hesitated, sorting through papers to find it. “Hamlin, Hamlin, & McGill? A law firm?”

“That’s right. A big one.”

She read through it a second time, more slowly. “…Is there any relation…?”

Jimmy paused. “…Uh, yeah. My brother is a partner there. He… got me the job.”

“Working in the mailroom?”

“Hey! Hey, there’s more to it than you would think. The place is a litigating machine. I have had my work cut out for me just trying to tell one case from another.” He slid forward in his seat. “My brother- just this month he won this huge corporate lawsuit, half a million in assets distributed to a family’s estate between at least four people, and the very same week that settles, discovery comes in for this giant labor racketeering case, and us poor saps in the mailroom have three days to copy and organize documents for half the office in order to respond to a subpoena for _five years_ of employee records. So I’m scrambling to sort out, what comes from Vakarian Holdings? What comes from United Global? Either way, it’s two sets of multiple years of corporate assets that you need to be able to keep track of, sometimes at a glance… I mean, needless to say, it can get really tricky.” He rested his hands on his knees. “Just… trust me. I have my hands full with this stuff.”

Mindy blinked. “Well, it sounds like it.”

“Hey. I know I don’t look great at first glance. I get that.” He looked pleadingly at her from across the desk. “I just think you would benefit from… y’know, a _second_ glance. Please. Just a little consideration is all I ask.”

Jimmy rubbed his forearm, and Mindy pursed her lips at him.

Apparently coming to some conclusion, she adjusted her glasses again and rested her papers down on the desk, flashing him another charming smile. “…Let me see what I can do for you, Jimmy.”

* * *

Monday evening found Kim, creature of habit that she was, perched at her kitchen counter over an open book. The radio, though she hadn’t really paid it any mind, was loud enough that it took her nearly a minute to notice that someone was knocking on her door unannounced.

Somehow, she managed to be surprised by the face that greeted her.

“Knock, knock.”

“Jimmy!” Kim took a step back from the doorway, crossing her arms. “I, uh…”

“Yeah. Sorry to drop in like this. I was just, uh, driving past, and…” He looked back over his shoulder, trailing off. “I just, uh, wanted… to see you.”

He looked disarmingly vulnerable, like a puppy dog, just for a second. It was something in his eyes.

Kim frowned. “Oh…”

Whatever it was, it vanished in an instant, and Jimmy waved her off coolly. “Hey, I don’t want to interrupt you, if you-”

“No, no, it’s okay. I just…” She paused, glancing in turn over her own shoulder to look back toward the kitchenette. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting anybody.”

Jimmy smirked. “What, you got your boyfriend back there?”

“Yeah, sorry, I just need to stall for a minute while he rappels out my bedroom window,” she replied dryly, giving him a once-over. “…Uh, look, Jimmy, you can come in, but… I mean, you kinda caught me in the middle of something. I’m a little busy right now.”

“Sorry. My car doesn’t have a phone. I would have called.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Seriously.” She ushered him inside, mostly just to end their awkward stalemate. “Have you eaten? I’ve got leftovers in the fridge, if you want. I had Chinese last night. Was about to heat some up for myself.”

“Eh. I’m not hungry,” Jimmy mumbled, tucking his hands into his pockets as he followed her into the living room. “Don’t let me interrupt. I’ll make dinner. You just keep doing your thing.”

“Jimmy. You’re already here. We might as well eat, unless you’re just planning to… creep around my living room.”

“Okay, okay.”

Kim headed straight for the fridge to make some dinner for the two of them, in spite of his guilty frown.

With his hands still tucked into his pockets, and no way to make himself useful, Jimmy hovered around the kitchen counter and skimmed Kim’s open notebook.

“So, what are you working on?”

“Oh. I’m just studying,” she replied with a glance over her shoulder.

Jimmy took a seat. “No, seriously. What is it?”

“ _Seriously_? Do you-?” Kim stopped what she was doing and turned around to lean back on the counter behind her. To her surprise, Jimmy seemed sincerely interested, and so she continued, albeit a little impatiently. “Alright. Well. It’s a Supreme Court decision about capital punishment in Georgia. Basically, in an attempt to clarify an earlier decision in a case called Furman v. Georgia, they affirmed that capital punishment doesn’t in principle violate the Constitution and upheld Georgia’s death penalty statute under the Eighth Amendment.”

Jimmy nodded dully. “Eighth Amendment.”

She sighed under her breath. “…Cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Right. I knew that.”

“Uh huh.”

Kim turned back to the food.

Jimmy watched her thoughtfully.

Dinner was served within a few minutes, though neither of them spoke in the interim.

Kim turned off the radio before she took her seat next to Jimmy, who was already positioned one seat over from her open notebook.

Unexpected as the interruption was, she found herself thinking, it was nice to see him. A small excuse to stop and take a breath.

She stretched out her leg to rub it affectionately against his, and he flashed a smile before digging in.

“You feeling the heat more than usual? Seems like the end of the year is coming up,” he said with a mouth full of food.

“Yeah, sort of. I guess you’ve noticed how busy I’ve been.” She shrugged. “Sorry about that. We’ll do something soon.”

He nodded silently, flipping absentmindedly through a few pages of her notes. “Have you been thinking much about the future?”

Kim shot him an amused look. “…Jimmy, is that a serious question? Have you _met_ me?” She snickered at herself, digging her fork back into her food. “I haven’t been thinking much about the _present_.”

“I guess that was a stupid question,” he chuckled. “You must be dying to just take the bar exam and get it over with.”

“Get it over with? Oh, I’m not worried about the bar exam,” said Kim with wide eyes. “I repeat: have you _met_ me?”

“Sorry. Don’t mean to imply any possibility besides you unceremoniously kicking its ass.”

“Yeah, I should think not.”

“Even still. It’s a lot of pressure.”

Kim glanced at the ceiling. “Not compared to what’s coming.”

“Must be stressful,” said Jimmy, flicking his fork between two fingers, “knowing you’ve got Howard watching you all the time to see if you screw anything up.”

“I’m really not worried about Howard, Jimmy. I never have been. He’s been a big help to me.”

“Ah. Still.” He poked his fork toward her. “Imagine if _we_ were running the place.”

“Jimmy, if _you_ were running the place, it would look like the inside of the Frosty Palace.”

Kim smirked but didn’t look up from her food.

Jimmy cupped his hands together. “Do… do you really believe that, Kim?”

“What?” She looked up, but hesitated, taken off-guard by the inexplicably meek response. “I… Jimmy, I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. But, I mean, y’know. It’s not exactly like you’re spending the rest of your life at HHM…”

Jimmy opened his mouth and closed it again, averting her gaze to timidly stare at some spot on the wall.

Kim’s mouth hung open. “I- oh… oh my God, are you serious…? Are- I- I mean, do you-?” She tapped him on the arm. “Jimmy, is this news? I don’t understand; what are you trying to say?”

“Uh. I.” It took him a minute to work up to it, but he finally looked her in the eye. “I… uh, got my credits transferred from back home. To a community college. I could knock out my Bachelor’s in a semester by taking night classes. And then, you know, I could start thinking about the LSAT.” He shrugged with embarrassment, or shame, or something. “I snuck into the library during work a few times. I just… I dunno. It’s… maybe it’s the start of something for me.”

“I. This- this is so…”

Kim was stone-faced, torn between a dozen different impulses at once- she was astonished, and excited, and incredulous, and proud, and anxious, and maybe a little flattered. Just a little.

It was like looking at a completely different person.

“…I don’t know what to say,” was the most truthful thing she could come up with.

“You think it’s a stupid idea,” was his immediate response.

“No! _No_ , Jimmy, I- no!” Kim protested almost frantically. “I just… I… had no idea this was what you wanted…”

He looked up at her hopefully, and she softened her expression, though she was no less dumbstruck.

She laughed breathily. “Did… what did Chuck say when you told him?”

“Chuck? Are you kidding? I’m not telling Chuck about this.”

As if she wasn’t surprised enough- that one earned a scoff from her. “What? Are you serious? Why in the _world_ not? I would think Chuck would be the first person you’d bring this up with… I mean, he’s the best lawyer either of us knows.” She shook her head with disbelief. “God, if I’d had access to him like you do when I first started… I mean, I would have _killed_ to be able to have a brain like Chuck’s to pick.”

“The last thing Chuck needs is to have his brain picked, alright? God knows how busy he is.” Jimmy sighed. “And besides, I… look, the whole point of this…” He stared Kim down for a moment, and spoke with sudden confidence. “I don’t want him bailing me out anymore. Carrying me. I… I owe that to him. To prove that to him.”

Kim couldn’t possibly object to that.

She was still feeling a hundred things at once, of course… but admiration was starting to win out a little over the others.

She nodded firmly. “It’s gonna be a _ton_ of work, Jimmy. I mean, _years_ of work and study. It’s an enormous commitment.”

“I know. I’m ready for that.”

She believed him.

“And what about law school?” she asked.

“I know, I know. I’m not crazy. I’m not applying to Columbia or anything. With my GPA, and my record, and everything, anybody would be stupid to take me.” Jimmy shrugged. “But I could apply to a correspondence school. I already know about a few. I was looking at one in particular… one that will definitely take me.” He scratched his face. “Uh… the University of American Samoa.”

“…American Samoa?” Kim tilted her head.

“Proud US territory.”

“I- are you sure they’re accredited? Would you…?”

“They’re accredited. I mean… nothing fancy. Kind of an Island of Misfit Toys, but, y’know… still. It’s a legitimate school. Don’t worry, I did my homework.” He straightened out in his seat. “I- I’m serious about this. Really, really serious. No shortcuts.”

She studied his face carefully. “…Is this why you wanted to see me tonight?”

“I just finished getting my college credits transferred this weekend. It just… felt like things were really starting to get moving. I wanted you to know, before I took it any further. In case you didn’t think it was a good idea.”

“I just. This is a lot to take in. I… I really don’t know…” Kim trailed off.

‘Don’t know what to say,’ was what she was going to say, but that certainly wasn’t the truth.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him. “…I’m so proud of you, Jimmy.”


	13. Flight

Skid marks scuffed the asphalt outside a strip mall when a Chrysler tore into the lot, parking across two spaces out front.

The door flung open, and Mike Ehrmantraut stepped out, marching straight to the back seat. From it, he yanked the passenger- a scrappy, tattooed 20-year-old named Diego- out by the arm.

The kid winced as Mike dragged him along. “Hey, you- you’re hurting me-!”

“Inside. Move it.”

Shoved with one hand, Diego stumbled toward the glass entrance of his attorney’s office, followed closely behind by a thoroughly unamused Mike.

He pulled the door open and stepped inside with his head low. The three people already in the waiting room all shot him a look, and he rubbed the back of his arm nervously. Mike dragged him toward reception, where Francesca waited with an exasperated grimace of her own.

“I need to talk to Goodman,” said Mike, quite matter-of-factly.

Francesca narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t address him, instead leaning down to put the phone to her ear. “Your missing kid is here.” It quietly chattered back to her, and she looked up at Mike with a frown. “He’ll be with you in a minute.”

Mike didn’t bat an eye. “I need to talk to him now.”

“Yeah, and I need my Powerball tickets to start paying off, but life is cruel sometimes. I _said_ he’ll be with you in a minute.”

They stared each other down for a half-second, and Mike let out an almost imperceptible sigh, brushing straight past the desk and flinging open the door to Saul’s office.

“Hey- _hey_!” Francesca called after him a few times and then promptly gave up, slumping back into her seat.

Mike shoved Diego inside and then slammed the office door shut behind them.

Predictably, Saul was doing nothing important, simply lying on the floor with his eyes closed while his ankles swayed back and forth in his chi machine.

He spoke up without looking up. “What, are you kidding me…? Does ‘in a minute’ mean nothing to you? You don’t know what I could have been doing in here.” He lolled his head to the side, and his eyes shot wide open when he looked over the pair of them. “Oh, sh- you found _Nunez_? Why didn’t you _say_ so?!”

“Your secretary mentioned ‘your missing kid’,” Mike replied flatly.

“Yeah, well, I have a lot of clients, okay? I didn’t know she was talking about _Nunez_! Oh, _Jesus_ …!” With an exaggerated groan, Saul sat up straight, shoving the chi machine out of the way with his foot and pounding the off button on its remote control. “Where’d you find him? For the love of God, please tell me on US soil.” He rested a hand on his desk as he struggled to his feet.

Mike watched with distaste, hands folded in front of him. “North of the border, but just barely. In a diner less than a half an hour out.”

“Unbelievable. Pinch me; am I dreaming? Some actual good news?” Sighing, Saul slumped into his desk chair and raised a hand, gesturing for his client to take a seat.

“There’s something else you should probably know,” said Mike, still hovering to the side as Diego took his seat across from Saul’s desk.

“Yeah, yeah, in a minute, alright?” Saul rolled his eyes at Mike before turning to look straight across his desk. “Just tell me one thing, kid: what is the _matter_ with you?” He scoffed as Diego averted his gaze. “Fleeing the country? Is this some kind of joke?” He threw up his hands theatrically and then slapped them down on his desk again, groaning, “Why do I always have to get the mavericks? Just once, I’d like to get the thoughtful, forward-thinking type that knows how to listen to good advice. Just _one_ time.”

“That is probably not the type of person liable to get caught,” Mike commented dryly.

“Well, gee, thank you for the insightful commentary, Waldorf.” Saul did a double take, narrowing his eyes toward the peanut gallery. “Since when are you so talkative, anyway?”

Mike shrugged. “Like I said. There is something else you should know about.”

“Okay, okay! In a minute, alright? Jesus, patience is a virtue, you know. I’m having a lawyer-to-client discussion here.” He turned back to Diego with a roll of his eyes. “Do you know what happens when _la policia_ pick you up? Huh? That’s when the FBI here in the states decide to label you a ‘flight risk’. And a _flight risk_ gets denied bail. And when you get denied _bail_ , the only help you are getting from _me_ is whatever I can pass to you through three inches of bulletproof glass. Do you get that?”

Diego just looked at the floor, guilty frown plastered on his face like a schoolchild in the principal’s office. “…I get it. I do… I just…”

“Just nothing. Alright? Just _nothing_. You gotta be kidding me… hey. Look at this guy.” Saul jabbed a finger toward Mike. “You seen his poker face? You think he’s an avid negotiator? Huh? He _charges_ for his time, you know. I’m hemorrhaging money here trying to keep _your_ stupid ass out of prison!” Getting no reaction, he threw his hands up again. “What, am I speakin’ German here? What’s with the thousand yard stare? This cannot be overstated. If you take away nothing else from this conversation, at least get this: this little stunt was premium, grade-A _stupid_. Okay? My ass is on the line here, too. I have the police asking questions. I have the DEA breathing down my neck. Not to mention- if you go missing, whose door do you think the cartel starts knocking on? This is the last thing I needed to deal with.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to make any trouble.” Diego shuffled around uncomfortably in his seat as he tried to explain himself. “Look. I’m not Pablo Escobar.”

“Yeah, with what you’re paying me, you better not be,” grumbled Saul.

“…I just want to be done with this. I don’t want this in my life anymore. I want it behind me.”

“And how the hell do you think you are going to manage that without my help?”

“I know. I understand. Really, I do.” He sighed. “I… the thing is… it’s not me I’m worried about. It’s… it’s my brother.”

The pair exchanged a glance, and Saul blinked, blindsided.

“…Uh, I- what?” he scoffed. “What’s this, now? What are you talking about…?”

Mike rolled his eyes. “I _told_ you there was something else you should know about.”

“Yeah, okay, fine. Three cheers for you. You were right; this _is_ something I should have heard about,” retorted Saul. “So no more screwing around. What’s this about a brother?”

“Eddie Nunez. He’s fourteen years old. Left Albuquerque two weeks ago. Apparently he’s been staying with family across the border. They have an aunt and uncle in Nuevo Casas Grandes. Far as I can tell, that was where Diego was headed before I picked him up.”

Diego cut in abruptly. “I haven’t heard from him like I was supposed to. I just needed to make sure he’s okay. I swear, I was going to come right back. It would only be a few days at most.”

Saul shook his head. “Jesus. Here’s a thought: email! You had to try and cross the _border_ for this?”

“You don’t understand. He’s just a kid. If the cartel decided to go after him, they would tear him to pieces.” Diego was almost hoarse. “I’m serious. I had- it happened to someone who went to my school. They gutted him with a fire axe. Knocked down his front door. His parents were there when it happened.”

“But nobody’s after _you_. Not right now. So why the panic?”

“It’s just… if they get worried I’m gonna flip, it might just be easier to…” He cut himself off. “But like I said. It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Saul shrugged. “So what about your brother? Is there any chance _he_ might flip?”

“None. He doesn’t even know enough to tell the DEA anything. But we still needed to get him to safety. It’s not worth the risk.”

“…Risk! Okay. Let’s talk about risk. Because as I see it, as your legal advisor, it’s my _job_ to assess the _risk_ of the situation and _advise_ you accordingly, wouldn’t you agree?” He clasped his hands together. “Now, obviously, I don’t mean to suggest that death by _axe murder_ is not a worthwhile concern in the minds of, you know… all involved parties. Believe me, it’s not something I haven’t planned ahead for myself. But the risk of today’s little adventure? Jail. Flushing any favor I might be able to buy you with a judge down the proverbial crapper. And on the other hand, the reward is… what? Peace of mind?” He scoffed. “Who do you think is going to be looking out for your brother if you’re behind bars? Let me tell you something: in this line of work, there is no such _thing_ as peace of mind. Ever.”

“But I wasn’t going to get _caught_.”

“Famous last words.” Saul gestured to Mike again. “News flash, kid: you _did_ get caught. You were just lucky that it was by someone who was lookin’ out for you.”

Caught at a loss for words, Diego stared straight down at the desk, rubbing a hand on his forearm.

Saul just shook his head. “Here’s the bottom line. The only concern that should be on your mind right now is how _you_ can best stay out of trouble while the cops have you under the microscope. Anything else that might require your attention, that is a you-in-six-months problem.”

“But it’s not that simple!” Diego replied harshly. “If he’s in danger, I _need_ to be able to protect him- no matter what. Family first.”

Saul clicked his tongue as he considered it.

His thumb rolled absentmindedly along his pinky ring.

He leaned into the desk. “Is your name _Eddie_ Nunez?”

“I- what?”

“Do I _represent_ Eddie Nunez? Is _Eddie Nunez_ the one waiting on his trial date? Is _Eddie Nunez_ the one barely keeping his head above water?

The kid stared uneasily at him.

Saul was speaking more harshly now. More emotionally.

Almost out of character- but not quite.

He continued: “This is hard to hear, but you need to hear it. You and he have different problems right now. _He_ is under the radar as it is. _You_ are anything but. And that means, no matter what your intuition is telling you, the best thing you can do for him right now is to have as _little_ to do with him as possible,” he explained, waving a hand over his head dismissively. “I want you to put that mantra out of your head. Not family first.” He poked a finger forward for emphasis. “ _You_ first. Diego first. That is the only way this works. For you _or_ for him. That is the _only_ way this works. That’s just life.”

Diego shook his head uneasily. “I can’t think like that. I can’t.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t really have a choice. So you better learn to.”

That effectively ended the debate. The humiliated twenty-year-old settled into his seat with a pit in his stomach, and Saul folded his hands on the desk victoriously.

Mike, ever dour- and far from willing to interject- still managed a look on his face that resembled pity for the kid.

Saul shot him a look, gritting his teeth. “…On that note,” he mumbled, “if your brother is tied up with the cartel, too, you shouldn’t be having any unsecured contact with him in the first place. God knows if they have your house bugged, or your phone, or whatever else.” Fishing through the nearest drawer on his desk with one hand, he dug a flip phone out of the pile and brandished it without taking his eyes off of Diego. “Here. I have a present for ya,” he said sarcastically, resting it face-down on the desk. “Happy belated birthday from Uncle Goodman. You need to make any… eh, _sensitive_ calls, you go outside and use this. Okay? Use it for me, too, as a matter of fact, if anything comes up. If you’re calling my office, it needs to be on a secure line, for both of our sakes.”

Off-put, Diego picked up the phone and studied it, expression growing more anxious by the moment. “I really need to use this…?”

“This isn’t exactly my first time doing this.”

Saul had no doubt that it really was for the best, of course and yet there was still something cold about the way he said it.

And so he did his best to lighten up. “Hey. You keep your head down, and look after yourself, and before you know it, this is all going to be behind you. And the next time you feel like doing something stupid… well.” He chuckled. “…You know my slogan.”

* * *

“Jimmy!”

Kim was pounding on the door at the Beachcomber, having arrived completely unannounced.

And Jimmy, who was planted firmly on his couch with his gaze fixed dully on the television, took just a second too long to react to her.

“ _Jimmy_!” More pounding on the door. “Can you get over here, please? These are heavy!”

He tripped trying to scramble over to the front door before she called for him again.

She nearly fell through the doorway as he opened it for her, her arms stacked with books up to her chin.

“Whoa!” Jimmy threw up his hands as he took a step back. “What’s all this?”

“I had to carry them from my car. I didn’t want to make two trips.”

She brushed straight past him into the kitchen area, dropping the entire stack on his table with a loud thud.

“I wasn’t expecting you…” Jimmy mumbled.

“Yeah, well, I saw you were here- your car is in the lot. I was just _driving past_.”

Kim turned to face him and leaned back against the kitchen table with both palms.

She widened her eyes, daring Jimmy to make a hypocrite out of himself.

Naturally, he refused to. “And what’s all this?”

“What do you think? It’s for you.”

“I- for me…?” Jimmy sifted through the stack of books, stricken- it was lawyer stuff, all textbooks and course materials. He shook his head. “Kim…”

“Just be careful with them. These are loans.” She glanced toward the book on top and tapped a finger on it. “Except that one. That’s a gift.”

“What is it?” he asked as he picked it up to inspect the cover.

“It’s Black’s Law Dictionary. Fifth edition.”

“I- are you sure? You don’t need a law dictionary anymore?”

“I don’t need an extra one. They’d been using the same dictionary for ten years, and then less than a year after I bought that, they released the sixth edition.”

“Yeah… that’s how they get you, huh?” Jimmy set the book down again.

Kim chuckled. “And stupid me, I bought a second one. As if there was really going to be that big of a difference between them.” She waved a hand over the stack of books. “Anyway. Now it’s yours.”

“What about the rest of this? I mean, you’re sure you don’t need to use them anymore? You haven’t passed the bar yet.”

“I’m only a few months out now. I don’t need these anymore; they’re from my first two years. I don’t-” She stopped herself short, resting a hand on her hip. “Look, these have been collecting dust in my closet. I was going to bundle them up with my current casebooks after I passed the bar and see if I could sell them in a bundle. But now that you might get some use out of them… I mean, c’mon, it would be selfish _not_ to let you borrow them first.”

“But… I haven’t even applied to a school yet.”

“Yeah, and I don’t know what kind of law program they offer at the… University of American Samoa, anyway. You’ll probably still need a separate set of books. But if nothing else, it will help you prepare, right?” She tugged lightly on his arm to get him to look her in the eye. “Jimmy, please, take it from me. If you’re going to do this, you should take all the help you can get.”

Jimmy only glanced at her for a moment before his gaze drifted back down to the table, lips curling into a distracted frown.

“…What?” she demanded.

“Nothing. Nothing…” he mumbled, head still craned downward. “It’s just… a lot.”

“Yeah.” She crossed her arms, lips pursing as her eyes traced the stack of books down to the tabletop. “Yeah… it really is.”

They stood shoulder-to-shoulder over the table for another moment or two, and Kim sighed, turning to make her way back into Jimmy’s kitchen. As she did, he lowered himself into a seat, lost in thought.

She returned a minute later, carrying a beer for each of them. She passed it to him without a word, slumping down into the chair next to him, and they drank together in silence for a little while.

Eventually Jimmy spoke up. “Hey, what time is it?”

“Uh.” Kim glanced over her shoulder at the clock on the wall behind them. “5:17.”

He nodded once. “…As we speak, I’ve got a friend still hanging out in Cicero, still sitting at the same bar stool, still paying his bar tab selling Kennedy half-dollars. Probably right at this very moment.”

“Uh huh.” Kim knew exactly how to respond, though she still took a drink first. “And did your, uh, friend… did he ever finish his bachelor’s degree?”

“Nope.”

“And in five years, when you’re getting fitted for a suit so you can interview at HHM… where do you think he’s gonna be then?”

Jimmy chuckled under his breath at the question, earning an apprehensive frown.

Noticing her expression, he waved her off, smiling ambiguously to reassure her. “…I’m not worried about it or anything. Just seems strange.” He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek and shrugged. “Like… ironic, or something. I dunno.”

She squinted, then looked away, taking another drink. “I dunno.”

“…Thank you for doing this, Kim.”

“Of course.”

He took a swig and rested his bottle on the table, pushing the stack over slightly to look at the covers of some of the casebooks underneath.

It had been ages since Kim had so much as looked at most of them. The look on Jimmy’s face gave her déjà vu.

She reached out for the law dictionary, thumbing through the first few pages with a subdued smile.

“…Man,” she hummed, “Chuck is gonna _flip_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you didn't expect Mike to show up in this story, didja? ;)


	14. Beginner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, if you are celebrating it! Consider this update my gift from me to you... this is kind of a comfy chapter, or at least I feel like it is.  
> I hope everyone is having a nice holiday season! I know I am :)

Jimmy mumbled to her without looking up: “It’s a little tricky.”

Rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, he leaned in close and gently extended his hands out in front of him.

She shot him a sideways glance. “How will you ever learn to be a lawyer if you can’t even figure this out, hm?” She frowned. “Oh, not that I’m having any better luck.”

“Yours looks okay to me.”

“No… I don’t think I’m getting it. The edge is just coming out wrong when I try it. It’s too flat.”

Jimmy shrugged, pulling one hand back to rest his wrist on his pottery wheel.

“It’s in your fingers. You have to throw it upward.” He nudged her with his shoulder to get her to watch as he demonstrated. “See? It’s all in your hands. That’s how you get that lip on the top. Up and out with the tips of your fingers.”

She imitated him closely. “Like this?”

“Yeah, I think that’s more like it. You’ve got to really reach around. Get your hand firm on her waist, like you’re ballroom dancing with it.” Jimmy stuck his tongue out a little, intently focused as he wrapped a hand suggestively around his unseemly lump of clay. “…Sorry, I guess that analogy probably works better for a man.”

“Don’t worry. I know how to dance a man’s part,” she laughed. “My husband is a terrible dancer. I had to teach him his own part so we could slow dance at our wedding.”

Jimmy dug a finger into the back of his vase and tore a chunk out of it by accident.

He blinked once, having forgotten what they were talking about. “…I’m sorry; what did you say your name was again?”

She smiled at him. “Ethel.”

“Right. Ethel, got it. Like Big Ethel. –Uh, no offense,” he chuckled. “Sorry, Ethel; I’m usually really good with names; I was just… focused on this…” He flicked the top of it with his fingertips, and the lip on his vase folded inward and collapsed. “…Damn it.”

“You took a piece out of the back,” said Ethel.

“Yeah, I probably should’ve mentioned, I am a pretty terrible dancer, too,” he replied with a smirk. “I come from the generation that invented the Bump, y’know. We were not really all that interested in cotillions back in high school.”

They were by far the most talkative pair in the classroom, which was occupied mostly by bored adults that came on their own just to try and pick up a new hobby. But Jimmy was determined not to grow apathetic, and he liked to believe he could make fast friends with just about anybody. And besides, old people loved him, a fact he took some pride in.

Ethel seemed to enjoy his company, at any rate.

“You know,” she said, “I have a niece about your age. Sharon. I bet you two would hit it off if I introduced you…”

“And I’m sure she’s a lovely lady, but, eh… unfortunately, I am currently off the market.”

“Is that so? I guess I should have assumed as much. A nice young man like you.”

Jimmy hesitated. “Yeah… maybe.”

“What’s her name?”

“Uh. Kim,” he answered with a shrug. “Actually, she and I have been carpooling. You may actually see her tonight if she doesn’t get here too late.”

“Carpooling? I haven’t seen her here.”

“No, no, not _here_.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, pointing toward the window. “Uh, law school. She has night classes at UNM around the same time I’ve got this, so we take turns driving. It’s not really on the way, but it saves gas, and… eh. Y’know. Gives us the chance to grab dinner afterward.” He scratched the back of his neck.

Ethel, apparently finding the idea romantic somehow, curled her lip at the thought. “That’s sweet. So you two decided to go into law school together?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no. Nah, she… she’s been doing it for a long time now. Years. Long before she met me. She’s finishing it right as I’m starting it.” He thought about it for a moment. “ _Before_ I’m starting it, in fact. She graduates in a little over a week, if I have the date right.”

“Well, good for her!”

“No kidding. Jesus, if she isn’t the most overworked person I’ve ever met.”

“You have no idea how nice that sort of thing is to hear about. We didn’t have many female lawyers when I was growing up.”

“Yeah, well. Changing times, I guess. It’s just a calling for some people. And she’s the next Ruth Bader Ginsburg, you mark my words on that.” He glanced over at her with a chuckle, and his pinky scraped the side of his spinning clay, caving it in. “-Goddamn son of a-!”

Despite the distraction, something intrigued Ethel, and she pressed it. “Do you mean it’s not a calling for _you_?”

Jimmy was visibly caught off-guard. “I don’t… I mean, it’s probably too early to tell, right?” He laughed awkwardly. “But… I’m no _natural_. I know that much. Not like…” He was already trailing off, but as he turned to make eye contact with her, something else caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and he dropped it altogether. “…Speak of the freakin’ devil.”

Their instructor had gotten up from his seat for the first time all class in order to greet a new visitor to the classroom- the blonde-haired guest of honor whom Jimmy hadn’t been expecting for at least another ten minutes.

She approached after a brief discussion with the instructor to get hang around in the classroom. “Hi, Jimmy.”

He threw up a hand in greeting, flicking a few specks of clay in her direction as he did. “What are you doing here? Class hasn’t quite ended yet…”

“Professor Lopez wanted to leave early to go to his daughter’s piano recital, so he ended things early for us,” Kim explained. “I didn’t feel like sitting around in my car out in the parking lot. I hope I’m not intruding. I got the impression it was… pretty relaxed around here.” She rested her hands on her hips as she looked around.

Ethel turned in her chair as well, smiling at the pair of them. “This is Kim? Gosh, what a beautiful young woman.”

“Oh, my… um. Thank you.” Kim flashed an incredibly awkward smile to the woman, who looked old enough to be her grandmother.

Then she glared at Jimmy to demand an explanation.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, we were just talking about you.” Jimmy swiveled to the side, gesturing to the woman there. “So, this is Ethel Appelbaum. She’s sixty-eight, she has four lovely grandchildren, and she is making a vase so she can shame her husband for forgetting to buy her flowers on their fortieth anniversary.”

“Well, I certainly can’t think of a better reason to make a vase than that.” Kim smiled brightly at Ethel again and crossed her arms, peering over Jimmy’s shoulder. “So, what’s _yours_ for?”

“A political science degree,” Jimmy replied instantly. “…I mean, uh, to build character, or something. Yeah, let’s go with that.”

“Very convincing.” She took a step forward to examine Jimmy’s work, and made no attempt to suppress a laugh at the sight of it- a barely discernable, half-collapsed lump. “Oh my God; is that supposed to be a _vase_?”

“Hey! Don’t make fun. It’s _Beginner_ ’ _s_ Pottery. I’m a _beginner_. This is a judgment-free zone.” He gestured to her with a clay-stained hand. “Why don’t you take a seat? Stay a while.”

“There’s nowhere for me to sit.”

“Sure there is. Didn’t you ever see _Ghost_?”

Kim snorted loudly and then promptly covered her mouth out of embarrassment, to Jimmy’s shameless satisfaction.

“I think I’m just gonna stand, thanks.”

“Suit yourself. But don’t stand too close. I don’t want you to see how bad Ethel is making me look.”

“It’s a little late for that, I think.”

Ethel enjoyed their banter with a charmed smile, and waved them off at the mention of her name. “Oh, you two.”

“Hey, don’t try to be modest, now,” protested Jimmy. “I’m fully aware that mine has been getting less ‘vase’ and more ‘Son of the Blob’ with every passing minute.”

Ethel raised one finger pointedly. “But the important thing is that you keep trying.”

Kim smirked. “You listening, Jimmy? This is life advice right here.”

“I guess nobody ever succeeded at anything without taking a few risks,” Jimmy said with a click of his tongue. “Might as well go for it.”

He leaned in again to press a finger against the bottom of his vase, and the whole thing collapsed into a massive heap on the pottery wheel.

“…I guess I don’t know what I expected,” he grunted.

* * *

Class ended uneventfully soon after, and the instructor, as always, was only too eager to dismiss them on the hour sharp.

Kim and Jimmy left alongside Ethel, who was only too happy to have the company.

They made it all the way to the entrance of the school building before turning to part ways, and the elder woman was the first to say her goodbyes.

“It was very nice talking to you both. People can be so standoffish sometimes…”

Kim was not quite as comfortable around her as Jimmy was, though few people seemed as comfortable with strangers in general as him- so maybe Ethel had a point, she thought.

Following his example, she extended a hand to shake before speaking up herself. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Appelbaum. Have a nice evening.”

Ethel took her hand eagerly. “Good luck with your exams, honey. I’m sure you’re going to do great.”

“Thank you very much.”

“And good night to you, Jimmy.” She turned to him with a smile. “Thank you for your company.”

He raised a hand politely. “See you next time.”

The pair stood on the pavement for a minute as Ethel made her way toward the lot, leaving them alone together. As usual.

Kim allowed herself a deep breath before leading the way to her own car in the parking lot. “Well… she seems really nice.”

“Yeah, you’ve got some competition,” Jimmy replied coolly.

She cracked up again.

“I hope I’m that independent when I’m her age,” she added shortly after.

“You? Independent? Unthinkable.”

Kim looked at him out of the corner of her eye, curious about his demeanor. “Interesting that you two were talking about me.”

That finally earned an earnest reaction from him. “Nebby, are we? Yeah, the subject came up. Apparently she wanted to set me up with her niece. Had to put the kibosh on that.” She raised an eyebrow at him, and he shrugged, adding, “Don’t worry, I’ve said only nice things about you. I compared you to Ruth Bader Ginsburg.”

Immediately she looked away again to hide a flattered smile. “Well. Kind of an inaccurate comparison. Albeit a nice one.”

“Okay, well, let’s just agree to remember you said that so I can rub it in your face when you’re writing the brief for the next Reed v. Reed.”

He glanced to the side only to find that she had stopped short a moment earlier, staring with disbelief.

He shrugged at her. “What? You’re giving me that look.”

Kim rolled her eyes at the obvious attempt to play dumb. “Don’t say ‘what’ like you don’t know. You just name-dropped a Supreme Court decision!”

Jimmy threw up a hand as they started walking again. “Well, yeah. A _famous_ one. It was in that casebook you gave me. The red one.” He studied her. “What, you think I’m bullshitting you?”

“I didn’t say that,” she replied cautiously.

“You think I’m _bullshitting_ you!”

“No, I don’t!”

“Well, I’m not.” He cleared his throat quietly, happy to take the opportunity to show off a little. “It was the first Supreme Court ruling that found that the Equal Protection Clause in the Fourteenth Amendment applied to sex discrimination. A unanimous decision. It said that it was unconstitutional to show preference for men over women in naming the administrator of estates. It opened the floodgates for them to change laws that discriminated based on sex. Hundreds of them.”

Shameless as the little speech was, it had the intended effect on Kim all the same, who couldn’t wipe the grin off her face for the life of her. “I, uh. Yeah.”

He narrowed his eyes more severely than before. “… _What_?”

Kim just kept smiling.

“Nothing!” she cried, throwing up her hands defensively. “I mean, you’re right! It was an important decision. It’s a big deal.”

“You thought I was bullshitting you.”

“…I thought maybe you were _exaggerating_ about your knowledge a little.”

They reached Kim’s car, and he rested his arms on the roof as she unlocked the door for them both.

“I suppose I have been known to exaggerate from time to time.”

“Yes, you have.”

Tossing her purse into the back seat, Kim slumped down into the driver’s seat and slotted the keys into the ignition. She was still making that same affectionate, silly smile that Jimmy got a kick out of just looking at.

He took a moment to do just that before settling into the passenger seat next to her, peering out the windshield absentmindedly.

“So.” He took a breath. “About dinn-”

Kim cut him off with a fierce kiss before he could even get the words out. In the brief moment he’d spent turned away from her, she had climbed over the divider between the seats and into his lap. His hands fell to her waist to help her straighten out, and she gripped his collar with both hands, her long hair falling down into both of their faces.

Jimmy was grinning from ear to ear when they finally broke apart. “-Okay, now I _really_ feel like a college student again.”

“Sounds like you had a much more exciting time in college than I did,” she laughed.

“Yeah, well, look where that got me.”

Their faces were still barely half an inch from each other.

“Looks like you’re doing okay to me,” she hummed.

They kissed again, his hand running slowly up her forearm. Then he rested it on her shoulder to pull away.

“What…?” he whispered, catching his breath. “Uh… what do you want to do after this?”

She gritted her teeth. “Let’s go get a table somewhere. I’m sick of takeout.”

“Okay, and after that?”

“Well. It’s up to you. You’re welcome to come back to my place.” She finally pulled herself off of him and returned to her seat so they could talk more easily. Rather than straighten out, though, she just leaned her back against the driver’s seat door and stretched out her legs across the seats to rest her feet on his lap. “I got _Barton Fink_ on VHS. We could make popcorn. How does that sound?”

“I could see that again,” he answered with a sigh, rubbing a hand on her leg. “What about after that?”

“You can stay the night, if you want. I can drive us both to work.”

“Well, if you’re _offering_. Not like I’m gonna say no.” He nodded a few times to himself. “After that?”

“Uh… after _that_ , we spend the day delivering mail like we always do. And the day after that. And the day after that. Et cetera.” She pursed her lips. “And after that, well… I’m graduating, so…”

“Is there gonna be a ceremony and everything? They stuffing you into a cap and gown?”

“Yup. The whole nine yards.” She smiled pleasantly as a new thought occurred to her. “My mom and dad are flying down for it. You could meet them if you wanted.”

“Oh? That sounds like a big deal.”

“It doesn’t have to be. They’d love you.”

“Okay, then. Meet the parents. Nothing could go wrong there.” He sighed heavily. “What comes after that?”

“After _that_? After that, I have to start studying for the bar exam. ‘Till the end of July. So I’ll still be busy. Probably even busier than I _have_ been, at least until I pass it. Y’know, with flying colors.”

“Of course.”

“Of course. But after _that_?” She rested her head back against the window. “After that, it’s _your_ turn.”

“Well, I don’t want to step on your moment. Don’t you think you’re jumping ahead a little?”

“We’ll have plenty of time to fill in the blanks.” She chuckled at him. “You’re not stepping on my moment, Jimmy. Don’t worry.”

“I know. I’m just saying. I don’t even finish night classes until the fall. But you?” He drummed his fingers on her shin and looked her in the eye. “Right now, this is all _you_ , Kim.”


	15. Advocates

The workday would end in less than an hour, but Kim was making a concentrated effort not to watch the clock, lest the day drag on any painfully longer than it already had.

Her mail route for the day took her through a string of cubicles- several of them empty, she noted, and not far from a window, either.

Then a row of offices belonging to senior associates. Angelica had jumped ship a few months back to join another, smaller firm, where they had agreed to make her partner right away. Hasty… _unambitious_ , thought Kim. Quite a compromise just for a job title. But it left an office open.

A corner office. With a wall of glass.

Kim snapped back to reality with a start. She had a carefully-cultivated reputation for being efficient, which was not aided by standing around in the middle of the hall letting her mind wander. And so she carried on delivering the mail, sighing under her breath.

“Congratulations, Kim.”

“Congratulations, Kim!”

“Good _luck_ , Kim… you’re gonna need it.”

She greeted everyone with a smile, but she made a point never to stop and chat. Plenty of time-wasting got done in the mailroom _without_ her being part of the problem. And she certainly had no desire to fish for compliments, not that the recognition wasn’t appreciated.

She had already returned to her cart from a fourth cubicle before realizing that she was getting ahead of herself.

“Oh, Clara.” She poked her head back inside, just far enough to look Clara in the eye. “I’m on my way to give the same thing to Chuck, but you should know: there’s a pending CIP application in there from QNF. I know it’s getting late, but they wanted HHM to review it and send it back to them before the end of the week so they can file it. I figured you’d want to get the chance to work on that today.”

“Agh! Arnold always puts off sending stuff to us. I really wish someone would talk to him… I don’t know what the point of them even having senior counsel is if we have to double check all their work anyway. This is going to keep me late for _sure_.” Clara rested a hand on her forehead, mentally reorganizing her entire schedule. “…Whatever. It’s not your problem. Thanks for the heads-up, Kim.”

“Sure. Have a good one.”

“You, too.”

Kim turned away.

“-Oh, hang on!”

And turned back again. “Hm?”

“I’m so sorry; this thing distracted me. I almost forgot to say-! I heard the good news through the grapevine.” She threw up her hands excitedly. “So… you know, congratulations!”

Kim was indomitably professional. “Thank you, Clara. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s been a long time coming.”

“Yes, it certainly has.”

“I wonder where they’ll put you.”

“I’ll find out soon.”

She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze drifting toward the other cubicles over the divider.

Clara tapped a finger reluctantly on the mail still in her hand. “I guess I should get back to work.”

“Right. See you.” And she was off again.

Most of the offices- the fancy ones, at least- had mail sorters attached to the door from the outside, placed specifically so the mailroom employees would not have to bother the lawyers at work. The nice thing about this was not having to strike up a conversation with your boss during every delivery.

Kim did not have that luxury- it was the price she paid for her own meticulousness.

She knocked meekly on Chuck’s door, for fear of appearing discourteous.

“Come in!”

She opened the door slowly, her heels digging into the carpet with each heavy, purposeful footstep.

“Hi, Mr. McGill,” she said confidently.

Chuck stood from his desk to greet her. “Oh… Kim Wexler, right?”

“Yes, sir.” Kim looked herself over before extending a stack of envelopes to him. “I have your mail. I wanted to let you know- I was just telling Clara, QNF sent in a continuation-in-part application that needs to be reviewed by the end of the week.”

He studied her for a moment as he took it from her, taking a seat at his desk. “I heard about that, actually. I was just in a call with them.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry to bother you, then.”

“Thank you for being proactive anyway. It’s always reassuring to see our law students keeping up to date with our clients. But then again… I guess that term is not really appropriate for you anymore, is it?” He flashed a sudden, knowing smile as he looked up from his desk. “You’re being modest, Kim! Howard told me today that you heard back from the Bar Association.”

Nearly blushing, she smiled vibrantly and gave a single nod. “…Yes, I did.”

“Well, then, this is no time for _modesty_!” He shot her a look bright enough to match her own, amused by her obviously restrained reaction. “Congratulations!”

He extended his hand for her to shake, which she did eagerly, making sharp eye contact and swelling with pride. “Thank you, sir.”

“I remember exactly how I felt the day I passed the bar. It was one of the most exciting days of my life. You must be very proud of yourself.”

“Yes, I-” She shook her head, laughing under her breath as she lowered herself into a seat at his desk. “-Absolutely, I am. Of course I am.”

“From what I have heard about you, Kim, I expect great things. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Thank you so much. That… I… that means a lot, coming from you.”

One finger drummed on her hands, which she had folded on her lap, but his tone went a long way toward making her feel at ease. Almost like he was talking to a friend.

“I’m sure you’ve spoken to Howard about the logistics.”

“Yes, sir,” said Kim. “He’ll, um, be standing for me at the ceremony. He told me we would discuss the specifics of my coming on as an associate after I’m officially sworn in.”

“And when is that?”

“This Saturday.”

“Ah. So _very_ close. You must be itching with anticipation.”

Her shy expression was like an admission of guilt.

Chuck continued: “Let me tell you what I tell everyone coming out of law school.” He wrung his hands as he spoke, choosing his words carefully. “You’ve done your due diligence. You’ve proven that you understand civil procedure. My advice to you now is to remember whatever it is that made you interested in the law in the first place. _Hone in_ on it.” His expression was striking- Kim rarely saw him riled up about anything. “The law needs passionate advocates. I’m worried that that sentiment gets lost sometimes. I respect your ambition, Kim- but don’t lose your _spark_. Don’t give that up for anything.”

It felt like an important piece of advice. Like something that would stick with her for a long time. Even if she would have liked to believe she didn’t need to hear it.

She refused to break eye contact. “You certainly seem like _you_ haven’t.”

Chuck seemed to appreciate that. “Howard has always said he thought you were HHM material. I think I am inclined to agree with him.” Exchanging one last glance with her, he straightened out in his seat, attending to the mail on his desk again. “I should get back to work. And the day is ending soon, anyway. I don’t want to hold you up; I’m sure you’re eager to celebrate.”

“Well… yes, I- I was planning to.”

He stood. “Good luck to you.”

“Thank you. I…” She stopped herself. “Mr. McGill.”

They shook hands again.

Kim was still replaying the conversation in her head ten minutes later as she wheeled her empty mail cart back through the cubicles.

Past the empty corner office.

Her pace had slowed to a crawl.

She caved and checked the clock. The day would end officially in fifteen minutes. But there was no real reason to hang around.

She had just made up her mind about this when Jimmy ambushed her by the elevators. She had barely seen him all day.

He crossed his arms. “Come here often?”

Kim rolled her eyes. “Wow, _you_ look busy.”

“You don’t. Are you finished for the day?”

“Just about. I was gonna get going soon. Maybe go out for a drink.”

“A _drink_? Oh, my stars; you’re _splurging_. Could today be some kind of special occasion?”

“Nope. Totally uneventful, normal day.”

“Nah. Something happened.” He squinted playfully at her, leaning in close. “You cut your hair? Yeah, that’s it. Looks good.”

“You’re so thoughtful.”

“That’s just the way I am,” he said with a shrug, drumming his fingers along his forearm. “…Speaking of which, were you gonna drop off that cart in the mailroom?”

“Oh, yeah. Would you do that for me? Save me a trip.”

“Why don’t we go down together?”

“You know where the carts go. Can’t you just do me a favor?”

“Yeah, but. What if you left something down there?”

“I didn’t.”

“Maybe you should double-check.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Unusual suggestion.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you forgot something. Just a feeling.”

“Oh, it’s just a _feeling_.”

“Yeah, I know. Spooky, isn’t it? I’m like a soothsayer. I just think maybe there’s something you should see in the mailroom.”

“…It wouldn’t happen to be a surprise party?”

“Uh, not with that attitude. Now come with me to the damn elevator.” He glared at her over his shoulder, half-smiling. “And play along, for God’s sake.”

* * *

The cake was predictable:

_Congratulations, Kim!_

Calligraphy, written in white font over chocolate icing.

It had clearly been Jimmy’s idea to have a party, but he was far from the only one to pitch in- the whole Friday night crew had arranged to bring napkins, cutlery, and whatever else. Even Lauren showed up for a few minutes to say something nice.

Corny, to be sure, but thoughtful, too. Kim couldn’t help but wonder if she was really close enough friends with most of them to warrant the fanfare.

“This is really sweet, you guys.” She spoke with her mouth full, eating cake off her plate with one hand.

Most of the others were crowded around Ernie in the middle of a separate conversation. A few flashed her a smile regardless.

Jimmy sidled up next to her, leaning back against a copier. “This is just a little mailroom thing. I still think we should do something bigger after you get sworn in.”

She nudged him gently. “This is already a bit much for me, Jimmy. I don’t want to make a big fuss.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. God forbid you allow yourself to have any fun whatsoever.” He picked a piece of cake off his plate with his bare hand and bit into it. “I found a karaoke bar in town. I think we should reserve the place.”

“…I’m a terrible singer.”

“Well, so am I, but I’ve never let _that_ stop me.”

She widened her eyes. “I’ll tell you what: when _you_ pass the bar, we’ll do all the karaoke you want. But it’s not your party,” she said matter-of-factly. “And I’m not singing.”

“Bah.”

Jimmy reluctantly conceded, and the two of them finished their cake while the rest of the group wrapped up their own conversation.

All eyes were still on Kim.

“So, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do once you’re officially a lawyer?” asked Ernie, taking a seat on a table and resting his elbows on his knees.

Kim already knew that she didn’t have a good answer.

“I don’t know. Whatever Howard assigns me to, I guess,” she replied with a shrug. “When I first started working here, I told myself I was going to litigate something big.” She hesitated. “Like, change somebody’s life.”

“Is there anything you’re hoping for?”

“Yeah. I guess.” She picked at her thumbnail with her index finger. “I want them to put me on United Global. There are still, like, eighty employees that got screwed by the union that we still need to get damages for.”

“…But isn’t United Global the firm’s biggest client?”

“Second biggest.” She shook her head. “I’d just like the chance, I guess.”

“I guess I shouldn’t find that surprising.”

“If anything, I’d be surprised she’s _only_ after the second biggest,” Jimmy remarked, earning a few quiet chuckles.

Kim wasn’t sure what to think.

Jimmy apparently was, at least judging from his expression as he fondly looked her over.

On a whim, he rested a hand on the copier and leaned over to kiss her.

She recoiled from him on instinct.

Concerned, Jimmy slid back from her, scratching the back of his head. “What? Did I…?”

He glanced back toward the crowd, all of whom were looking in their direction with similar confusion.

“Whoa.” Ernie pointed a finger. “What’s happening _there_? Are you guys…?”

Jimmy and Kim exchanged an awkward glance.

Her hands fidgeted with discomfort. “Uh. Yeah.” She’d run through a few gut responses before settling on that one.

“Huh. How’s long’s that been going on?”

“A while.”

Jimmy was hurt, and he did a poor job of hiding it.

He waved it off regardless. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Oh.” Obviously feeling out of the loop, Ernie looked back and forth between them several times. “Cool, guys.”

Donna rolled her eyes. “Speaking of things that you shouldn’t find surprising, Ernie…”

“Yeah. I guess I can’t argue with that.”

Nobody else seemed to think it was much news at all.

All eyes were still on Kim. But eventually people started their own conversations again.

Jimmy was still settled in next to her, despite his new self-conscious expression.

“Didn’t realize it was a secret…” he grumbled.

He watched her with wide eyes. Kim could tell he was doing his best not to make her feel guilty, which made her feel much guiltier than she otherwise would have.

“It isn’t. It isn’t…” she mumbled halfheartedly, looking at her hands. “I was just, uh.”

“Just worried about looking professional,” Jimmy said quietly.

They exchanged a glance.

“…Yeah. I guess so.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry. I was just distracted.”

“It’s alright.” He cupped his hands together. “You’ve got a lot on your mind.”

She looked at the clock again.

“Yep.”

She rested her hand on his.


	16. Bullet

The alarm, as usual, was silenced by Kim’s palm within moments of going off. It was set later than usual- _8:00_ \- but she had been awake for hours before then. She had barely slept at all, in fact.

She folded her hands over her stomach. Though she hadn’t gotten out of bed all night, she’d still managed to watch the sunrise, studying the changing shadows as the sunlight crept up from behind her curtains.

“Sir,” she said to the ceiling.

She narrowed her eyes. A bit too formal. Unnatural.

“Mr. Hamlin.” That was better. “Thank you for meeting with me.”

The ceiling did not reply.

Kim rolled over in bed- for the umpteenth time. She felt her hair tangling up a little more every time she turned her head against her pillows.

She shut her eyes tight. “No… you’re not meeting with me, I’m meeting with _you_ , stupid.”

But it was by now, fortunately, too bright in the room to fall asleep again, so she dragged herself out of bed and rubbed the bags under her eyes. A hot shower helped a little with the exhaustion.

She already knew exactly what she was going to wear for the day. White blouse, black pumps… and a brand new pantsuit. During the past week, she’d bought five of them. One for every weekday, just in case, all in either black or navy blue. Mostly black. None striped, and none too close to Howard’s color- he had his own. Hamlindigo Blue.

She snickered to herself at the name, and then she chose black for the day. Just to avoid the comparison. Just to be safe.

It wasn’t _Hamlin’s_ day, after all, she thought.

In the bathroom mirror, she spoke to herself again, resting her palms on the sink. “It was nice of you to schedule the time to-”

She cut herself off- that was too much. Too timid.

“It’s not _charity_ ,” she grumbled.

It took an eternity to get the knots out of her hair. Even then it got in her eyes. She thought about cutting it short. Maybe a bob.

For the time being, she just pulled it back out of her face.

“Thanks- thank you. Thank you for taking the time.”

That one sounded better.

She repeated it to herself a few times as she put her makeup on. She went a shade redder than usual with her lipstick, just to try something new.

“Mr. Hamlin.”

The sun was shining in her apartment when she left the bedroom. She made a cup of coffee as she adjusted to the light. As if she needed to be any more jittery.

“I’m prepared for whatever you think is best. Obviously.” She rolled her eyes. “ _Obviously_ …”

Birds were chirping outside. It felt strange to be hanging around so late in the morning, she thought, even if it was a Saturday. She checked her watch.

 _8:30_. Right on schedule.

She took a victorious sip from her mug.

“I’d just like to ask you to consider… no…” She winced. “…I’d just like to ask for your consideration.”

There was just a little bit of time to kill. She paced around her living room while she finished her coffee.

Her coffee table had a little cactus in a pot next to a picture of her mom and dad. She ran her fingers over the spines. It was so easy to feel out of place, especially when you put yourself out there, Kim thought. But Albuquerque really did feel like home to her.

“It’s only reasonable to be hesitant. But I firmly believe- no.” She rested on the couch for a moment. “I _know_ that I am prepared for the responsibility. And I am very familiar with the work that has already been done for United Global.”

She grabbed a pen as she stood up.

On the kitchen counter rested an open casebook on a stack of three others. A sight that had felt like a practically permanent fixture of her apartment for years.

These four were the only ones left she had yet to give away. It was like a ceremony all its own. Kim smiled at the thought.

Then, with a deep breath, she popped the cap off of the pen, leaned in, and scribbled a note on the inside of the cover.

_Stay focused._

But that didn’t feel personal enough.

She drummed her pen rhythmically against the counter as she considered it.

…

She clicked her tongue before adding:

_& keep your tie straight._

_Good luck._

_-Kim_

She closed the book.

And that was that.

“It’s my feeling that- _no_.” She narrowed her eyes, staring at her kitchen counter. “Let me assure you. I can do it. I am equipped for it. And I’m ready to prove my value to the firm.”

It stuck on her tongue. That one was almost good. But it still didn’t sound right.

“No.” She corrected herself one last time. “I’m ready to prove _myself_.”

Kim cleared her throat.

“…Mr. Hamlin.”

* * *

“‘And I will never reject.’”

“‘And I will never reject.’”

“‘From any consideration personal to myself.’”

“‘From any consideration personal to myself.’”

“‘The cause of the defenseless or oppressed.’”

“‘The cause of the defenseless or oppressed.’”

“‘Or delay any person's cause.’”

“‘Or delay any person's cause.’”

“‘For lucre or malice.’”

“‘For lucre or malice.’”

“‘So help me God.’”

…Kim sucked in her breath.

She declared in unison with the fifteen other lawyers beside her: “‘So help me God.’”

The judge at the front of the panel beamed at them. “Welcome to the bar. Let’s get your papers signed.”

The room erupted with applause. Howard patted Kim on the shoulder, his smile even jollier than usual and his chest puffing out with pride.

It had been a hectic morning in the courthouse. Aside from the guests, every new lawyer needed to bring a member of the legal community to vouch for them. A lot of people had relatives. Kim just had her boss. But if he didn’t feel like being there, he sure was being a good sport about it.

A few people from the mailroom showed up to the ceremony. Jimmy sat in the front row, and kept his eyes fixed on her the entire time, flashing her a toothy grin every time she looked over her shoulder.

After the oath, the only thing left to do was sign the roll of attorneys, which came and went without much fanfare. A few people took the opportunity to snap a photo, but Kim didn’t see the need to- the certificate would be plenty for her. From beginning to end, everything was over, officially, in barely over an hour.

And yet there was still no time to breathe. Apparently everyone had cleared their schedules for the day- almost half the attendants remained after the ceremony ended, even a couple of the judges from the panel, while people figured out their lunch plans. It turned into the world’s most uptight, awkward after-party.

Kim watched the crowd move around her like they were in slow motion, the commotion buzzing in her ears. Like mosquitos.

It was surreal. So much to take in in such a short time. She’d barely even had time to stop and think about it up until then. Just like that, in an hour’s time, she’d reached the end of the years-long road she’d been traveling. And the start of an even longer, even windier one. It was exhilarating, and terrifying.

Nobody waited up for her. Certificate in hand, she fluttered around the room to exchange pleasantries with the other new lawyers, and eventually stopped by to say thanks to her friends from HHM. Jimmy didn’t know how to act. He rubbed her awkwardly on the arm with one hand. She laughed at him.

He’d cleaned up nicely for the occasion, she noted.

After a while, she reunited with Howard, who had apparently struck up a conversation with the sole female judge from the panel.

It was the first person Kim was actually excited to talk to.

“Kim!” Howard exclaimed, reaching out a hand to gesture toward her as he approached. “I’d like to introduce you to Judge Papadoumian.”

She was a surprisingly young woman, at least relatively speaking, considering the legal career she must have had to have built for herself prior to being appointed to the judiciary.

She greeted Kim politely. “Congratulations, Miss Wexler.”

Her name was familiar, but it took Kim a moment to place it. If there were ever a time to make a good impression, this was it.

She broke out her pearly white smile. “Your Honor.” They shook hands, and Kim looked her right in the eye, radiating confidence. “You heard the summary judgment for the Kent Financial suit HHM handled.”

Papadoumian was, appropriately, visibly impressed. “Yes, I… gosh, that must have been two years ago, now.”

“Summer of ‘91. It was- I believe it was Francis Scheff that sat second chair to Mr. McGill.”

“Francis Scheff. Yes, I’m well acquainted with him. A stand-up attorney.”

“Yes, ma’am; he is.”

“You have quite a memory, Kim.”

“Thank you very much.”

Kim hoped her excitement didn’t show too much. But it did- she was glowing.

Howard seemed pleased to see it, and sidled up next to her as he chimed in. “Kim is one of the most dedicated law students I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. With any luck, you’ll get the chance to see that for yourself in court someday soon.”

The judge considered it with a smile. “And you said she’s coming on directly as an associate at HHM?”

“Yes, ma’am,” interjected Kim.

“I have a clerk that has been eyeing up your firm for a while now, Howard.” Papadoumian glanced between the pair of them for a moment before settling on Kim. “I suppose I know who to suggest he use as a role model!”

Kim nodded deferentially. “That’s very kind of you.”

They paused for a moment as Papadoumian glanced over her shoulder.

“I should really go say hello to some of the others,” she said with a reluctant shrug, leaning in toward Kim to shake hands with her a second time. “Congratulations once again. It’s been a real pleasure meeting you.”

“Oh. The pleasure has been all mine. Your Honor.”

She glanced to Kim’s side. “Howard.”

He shook her hand just as eagerly. “Your Honor.”

She took one last look at Kim, who waved at her with one hand. As she dissolved into the crowd, her long black robes trailed behind her all the way down to the floor.

Howard sighed with satisfaction at the exchange, resting his hands over his hips as he looked over the crowd with satisfaction.

After a moment of thought, he asked, without turning to his side, “…Do you have lunch plans?”

“I do,” Kim replied apologetically. “I’m sorry; I probably should have checked with you first.”

She didn’t have lunch plans.

“No, it’s no problem. I just didn’t have anything scheduled; I thought it could give us the chance to talk one-on-one a little.” He rolled up his sleeve to check his watch. “Would you like me to stick around? Help you make introductions with anyone else?”

“I’m okay. Thank you for offering.”

“Okay. Great. I think I’m going to get going, in that case.” He looked her over again. “I’ll see you at the office on Monday. We’ll talk then.”

“Sounds good. Have a nice weekend, Mr. Hamlin.”

“Congratulations, Kim.”

People started to clear out in spades not long after that. Mostly out of a sense of obligation, Kim tried to hang around, although she did not get the chance to make many more introductions outside of her fellow freshman attorneys. But even she couldn’t be compelled to stay all the way to lunchtime.

By noon, she was smoking in the parking lot.

The day at the courthouse was proceeding without her. A few cars pulled in and out of the lot, albeit infrequently, given that it was the middle of a weekend. Kim wondered how crowded it would be on Monday morning.

It took nearly ten minutes before Jimmy spotted her there on the way back to his car. She wondered why he hadn’t left earlier. He had probably been looking for her.

Naturally, he joined her against the courthouse wall without a word.

He gave her a minute, then he swiped the cigarette, already stained with her lipstick, from between her fingers.

“Well.” He took a long drag on it, letting the smoke pour out from between his lips. “This is it.”

He let out a long, quiet sigh.

She watched him curiously. “Yep.”

“Been a long time coming.”

“Yep.”

He smirked, his arms crossed.

“So, how’s it feel?”

She closed her eyes and shrugged playfully. “Meh.”

They shared a chuckle at that.

Smirking passively, Jimmy held out his arm to stare at the cigarette between his fingers, and Kim took it back from him.

They stood outside the courthouse for a long time. Not talking- just relaxing, breathing, being in each other’s company. Kim really needed that.

Jimmy was really, genuinely happy for her, or at least he looked like it. But his face was always easy to read, a fact she found herself appreciating more and more as time went on.

He looked at his shoes with a cute smile. “...There’s no stoppin’ you now.”

* * *

“Thank you for taking the time, Mr. Hamlin.”

His secretary had let her inside right away- and first thing on a Monday morning, at that. Howard must have cleared his schedule for their meeting. The thought gave a little jolt of energy to the butterflies in her stomach.

Howard peered up from his desk the moment he heard the door open, and smiled at the sight of her. “Absolutely. You can go ahead and have a seat.”

“Of course.”

She had met with him countless times in the past. She told herself that this was no different; that it was no big deal. She even almost believed it.

Howard took the chair across from her at the seating area near the entrance of his office. “How was your weekend? Do anything fun?”

“Oh? Um… no, not really. Just… you know.” She folded her hands on her lap. “Called my family. Tossed and turned in bed waiting for Monday.”

“I can imagine,” he laughed.

She gave a forced laugh along with him, but her voice quickly evaporated into a weighty, awkward silence. Howard locked his jaw and adjusted his clothes, but said nothing.

“…Um.” Kim shuffled in her chair uncertainly. “Listen. I wanted to run something by you.”

His smile dulled a little, but still he said nothing, just studying her face enigmatically.

She hesitated for a moment before proceeding with the speech she’d rehearsed. “…I’d just like to ask for your consideration. I thought… I thought it would be constructive to give my input.” She smacked her lips. “…I mean, regarding case assignmen-”

“-Kim, there’s something we need to discuss.”

He talked over her without warning, and the interruption gave her instant whiplash, causing every muscle in her stomach to tense up.

The color drained from her face. “…Yeah. Sure. Absolutely.”

He was apparently not surprised by the reaction. “Look. I hate to be the bearer of bad news. I really do. And I know that this is the very last thing in the _world_ you want to be hearing from me right now. But it needs to be done, so I’m just going to bite the bullet and do it.” Kim’s face sank a little bit, predictably, and he frowned with sympathy in response. “As I’m sure you know, we recently acquired a few enormous clients. It has given a lot of work to a lot of associates. It’s very good news for the firm. But. It also means… that we have our hands full.”

She acknowledged it with a sharp nod. “I understand.”

“My point is. Our resources as far as training is concerned… are relatively limited. And, well, to put it simply, we just don’t have anything that I or the partners are comfortable putting you on right now.” Howard gave her a second to let it sink in before delivering the death knell. “We’re going to start you on doc review. Most likely only for a couple of months, but… I can’t say exactly how long for certain.”

She had seen it coming halfway through his speech, but it didn’t hurt any less to hear out loud. Enough, even, to produce a near-imperceptibly small sigh, which she prayed Howard didn’t pick up on.

Even still, being the professional she fully intended to be, she nodded with understanding and maintained a steady, pleasant smile. “It’s okay. I understand, Mr. Hamlin.”

“I know it feels like you’re getting your wings clipped before you’ve even had the chance to spread them. But the timing is just awkward for us right now.”

“I understand. Really, I understand. I can handle doc review. It’s not a problem for me.”

“We’ll still set you up with a workspace in the office. You can make yourself at home there when you aren’t needed downstairs.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good. Good.”

Obviously, Kim would have been polite and dignified no matter what he told her, which was clear as day to them both. But Howard seemed to appreciate it anyway.

He smiled at her before continuing. “…One other thing. It… is generally the opinion of the partners that some courtroom experience is important for an incoming associate to… live up to their full potential. Generally, an employee that signs on with us has experience with a clerkship, or… maybe did paralegal work. But, unfortunately, given how recently you’ve passed the bar, that’s an advantage our law students usually don’t have right away. Now, I understand that you were very active in moot court at UNM. And you were very engaged with the work of the firm while you were in the mailroom. But the honest truth is, there is just no replacement for working in a real court, in front of a real judge.” He slid back in his chair and opened his hands widely. “I promise, I’m not going to leave you up to your neck in document review work. So while your schedule is light, it might be a good opportunity to acquaint yourself a little better with the folks down at the courthouse. Sit in on courtroom proceedings.” He shot a glance toward the door. “…If you are up to it, the partners have even suggested in the past… maybe even take on a client or two of your own. Something manageable.”

Kim was caught admittedly off-guard by the unorthodox suggestion. “Like… PD overflow?”

Howard was stone-faced. “Obviously, I would be available to you as a resource, if necessary. It’s definitely something that would be taken into consideration when the time comes to give out case assignments.”

That wasn’t the subtlest hint in the world.

She had to remind herself not to roll her eyes. “Got it. I will keep that in mind moving forward.”

“Excellent.”

Howard scratched his chin as he mulled it over. Kim had nothing left to say, and so she was left anxiously shuffling her feet under her chair while he stared at her. This went on for an unusually long time.

“Is… um…?” She glanced over her shoulder. “Is… that all you need from me…?”

“Hang on just a second, Kim.” He raised a hand in front of him to stop her. “I want you to understand that this has nothing to do with job performance.”

“I understand.”

“What I said to Judge Papadoumian on Saturday… I meant it. I’ve seen your commitment to your studies these past few years. Your commitment to deepening your legal knowledge. You’ve impressed me.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“With that said… do you remember your job interview with me when you first applied with us?”

“Of course.”

“You told me then that this line of work was a childhood dream of yours,” he noted. She half-nodded in response, and he slid forward in his seat for emphasis. “I’d like to ask you something. Now, obviously, _this_ isn’t a formal interview, so I hope you don’t feel pressured. But I think it’s valuable to consider regardless. And I would like to get some insight into a new member of our team.” He looked her in the eye. “I want to hear it from you, Kim: where do you see yourself in ten years?”

He stared her down expectantly for a few seconds, though still with the same familiar, amiable smile.

Kim considered it. “…In ten years?”

“That’s right.”

But there wasn’t really anything to consider. Kim knew the answer with absolute certainty, even though she’d always said it was a bad idea to try and predict the future.

“Well.” She chose not to mince words. “As partner.”

The silence that followed was powerful.

Howard seemed to approve of the declaration, or at least of the confidence she made it with. But he didn’t directly respond.

Instead, he simply stood up to dismiss her. “We’re going to do great things together.”

“Yes. Yes, we are.” She shook his hand firmly. “Thank you, Mr. Hamlin.”

It was how every other meeting they’d had had ended. On that note, she stepped around her chair, turning to leave.

This time, he stopped her. “Kim, for goodness’s sake.”

She spun around instantly, alarmed.

Howard chuckled at her. “How long have we known each other now? You are one of us. We’re colleagues.” He shook his head. “ _Howard_. Please.”

“Oh. …Oh!” She laughed out loud. “I… yes. Of course. Of course…” They exchanged a final glance. “…Howard. Thank you. So much.”

“Good luck, Kim.”

The secretary waved to her on her way out of the office, giggling at the silly grin on her face.

Kim made her way to the open cubicles to find a place to set up her stuff in.

She whispered to herself under her breath, fists clenched tightly at her sides.

“ _Howard_.”


	17. Conscience

Kim wiped her sweaty palms on her pant legs.

She had been having a slow week. The oath was taken, the celebrations were all over, and at the end of the day, she was left stranded far from the main offices, poring over documents in the dark as though nothing had changed at all. Her brand new suits only got use the few times she found the opportunity to spend a day at the courthouse.

After a handful of visits there, she eventually managed to arouse the curiosity of one of the judges- Clark- enough to be summoned to his chambers. It was probably the most important thing that had happened to her since she’d actually passed the bar.

And even then, standing outside his office, it was a rite of passage that she felt she could have done without.

She held her breath before knocking on the door.

“It’s open!”

Kim poked her head sheepishly through the door. “Hello?”

The judge smiled at her immediately.

“Ah! Yes. Come in, come in; have a seat.” He waved her in with one hand. “It’s Kim Wexler, is it? I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.”

“No, we haven’t. But I’m happy to have the opportunity to do that now, Your Honor.”

“I thought you would be. Hence the invitation.”

They shook hands as she took a seat at his desk.

“So, what brings you here this afternoon?” Clark asked, studying her almost suspiciously. “You’re a new attorney?”

“Yes, sir. Brand new. I just started at HHM a few weeks ago.”

“Ah… one of Charles and Howard’s Stormtroopers, then. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

He smirked playfully at her, but Kim was visibly hesitant to start poking fun at HHM, especially in front of a judge.

She scratched behind her ear with a nervous smile. “I… really hope I’m not causing a disruption. Howard suggested I take some time to observe in court.”

“Nope. No disruption. But it sure seems unusual to see a new associate in here in the middle of a workday. You don’t have casework to be doing?”

It almost sounded like an accusation. Kim knew better, of course… but it was an embarrassing question no matter _what_ it was.

She tried not to duck eye contact for too long. “Well, actually, I’m… my focus right now is on document review.”

That seemed to intrigue him. “…And you don’t have anything to review today?”

“I stayed late last night. I wanted to set aside time for this today,” she explained. “Like I said. It was Howard’s suggestion that I spend some time in court to help prepare.”

She was already getting the sense that she was missing something, not aided by the increasingly difficult-to-read expression of the judge as he listened to her explain herself.

He furrowed his brow the moment she mentioned Howard, and he waited a long time to follow up on it. “…Let me ask you, Miss Wexler: are you familiar with a man by the name of Ronald Barnes?”

Not a name she was expecting to hear. “Ron. Yes. He’s a fellow junior associate at HHM. He was another one of our law students.”

“And he’s relatively new. He was sworn in last spring, right?”

“I believe so.”

“You know, it’s the funniest thing. Last April, I’m in court, I’m hearing an arraignment for… misdemeanor assault, or something like that, and I see Ron Barnes sitting in the stands, just observing. He sees me in my chambers, and I ask him what he is working on during his first week at HHM, and you know what he tells me?”

He paused to give Kim a chance to respond.

She narrowed her eyes. “…Was he on document review?”

“He was! He was on document review,” Clark declared, throwing up his hands. “Howard Hamlin had suggested he spend time at the courthouse brushing up on procedure. In the middle of a workday! How about that?”

…Kim wasn’t sure whether it made her feel better or worse to be hearing this. She chuckled quietly just to break the tension, but couldn’t think of any appropriate way to actually respond.

Fortunately, the judge did not bother to wait for her. “I think I can fill in the blanks here, Miss Wexler. Were you planning to look for work from the public defender’s office?”

“I…” –she bit her lip– “…was strongly considering it, yes.”

He nodded firmly as soon as she said it. As though that was the last thing he needed to hear.

Rifling through papers on his desk, he glanced up once at her and asked, “Have you ever read the Georgetown Law Review?”

Kim didn’t skip a beat. “I’ve looked at it a few times, but I don’t actively follow it.”

“Well, your boss, Charles McGill, was the editor for it during his time in law school. But he published his own share of editorials as well. And one of those- a particularly lauded one - was this absolutely scathing, and very incisive, deconstruction of the public defender program. It got a fair amount of media attention. You actually may have heard about it.”

“I’ve read it, actually.”

“Smart. Read your bosses’ publications.”

“I do.” She smiled a little- it was nice to finally have the opportunity to tell him something that might actually impress him.

“I don’t have to tell you, then, that Charles McGill is very passionate about our public defender system.” Clark folded his hands on his desk. “I’ve known Charles for a very long time. Since before he joined George Hamlin’s practice. He was a PD himself for a short time. He was passionate then, too. But it did not take him long to move on to bigger and better things. And what can you do to help solve the problem of PD overflow when you have a job like his? Make donations, sure, which he has certainly done. But he has another resource, too, doesn’t he?”

He shot her a knowing look. Once again, she had no idea how to respond.

“You must be very excited to get make your mark at HHM,” he added self-assuredly. “You know what _I_ did my first year out of law school?”

“What’s that?” she replied.

“I bussed tables. At a country club. I didn’t get my first job with a firm until eleven months after being sworn in. And this was in a much less competitive job market, mind you.” He pointed a finger for emphasis. “It’s not easy to get ahead when you are at the bottom of the totem pole. Subject to the whims of your boss. Sometimes it means doc review. Sometimes… it means being asked to take cases as a public service, just to ease their conscience.”

He was trying to put her at ease, and indeed it was nice to have his sympathy. But Kim was toeing a fine line. And she refused to be goaded into saying anything she might regret.

She spoke up confidently. “…Regardless of the reason, I think it will be good experience for me.”

“You are absolutely right.” Clark patted a hand on the table approvingly before glancing at the papers on his desk for a second time. After all that, he’d finally decided to get to the point of his little speech. “And I’ll tell you what, Miss Wexler: you’re in luck today. I think I have something that should make your boss quite happy. And it shouldn’t be too complicated, either. I would be happy to point you in the right direction, if you’re interested.”

She jumped at the offer. Not quite literally- but almost. “Yes! Absolutely, I am.”

“Then here’s the story.” Recovering the sheet of paper he’d apparently been looking for, he straightened it out in front of him and read off of it. “Eighteen year old male with no priors. Facing one count of fourth degree felony burglary and one count of felony criminal property damage, after a break-in and theft at an auto parts shop. He was arraigned last week, but we hit a roadblock after his lawyer, Mr… uh…” –he squinted at his paper– “…Nelson… had to withdraw to deal with a family emergency. The public defender’s office has been trying to arrange to replace him, but you could serve as assigned counsel instead.”

“Yes. I would be happy to.”

“Good. Good. In that case…” He set down the paper momentarily. “As I understand, Mr. Nelson was in conversation with the DA before he had to excuse himself. Which means you should be able to pick up where he left off. There shouldn’t be any unexpected problems- just be prepared to negotiate.” He chuckled reassuringly. “With any luck, this should be just the ticket to Mr. McGill’s heart.”

“I appreciate the thought, Your Honor.”

Her smile was sincere, but even still, something made her hesitate.

“…But my hope would be that I don’t have to rely on luck,” she added.

* * *

Jimmy had made a change to his morning mail route. An extra left took him through a row of cubicles that someone else was supposed to go through separately. He almost never had anything to actually deliver, so all the detour really managed to accomplish was slowing things down- not that he was efficient to begin with, so he rationalized. But it gave him the chance to stop by Kim’s cubicle.

For several weeks he had wheeled past just to glance inside, and for several weeks he had found it empty. She was busy toiling out in the dungeons, practically working by lamplight.

Which is why the one time he actually found her there, he wheeled his cart all the way past before it even occurred to him to stop.

“Look who it is!” Jimmy announced it to the back of her head as he shuffled inside behind her. “I’ve been checking in here, like, every day, but you’re never actually in. This sure is fancy, huh?”

No response. Kim was poring over a document. He narrowed his eyes.

It wasn’t that glamorous of a work space, not that anything more could be expected for a first year associate. Jimmy got a kick out of looking around inside either way.

Kim’s degree was framed, and she’d hung it up to fill space on the otherwise bare wall of the cubicle. Jimmy took a minute to admire it.

Eventually- still getting no acknowledgement from her whatsoever- he spoke up again. “Uh… Kim? You still with us?” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, hands tucked into his pockets.

She continued to ignore him.

And then a minute later, she raised a hand and waved him toward the desk. Still without looking up, even for a moment.

“What’s wrong with this picture?” she said sharply the moment he approached, swiveling in her chair to face him and shoving a document into his hands. He skimmed it frantically as she explained it to him: “Teenager sneaks onto an auto lot through a hole in a fence, and they want to hold him responsible for animal damage done to a few of the cars on the lot. As if he somehow deliberately left the property open for wild animals to come in. Like, maliciously.”

He floundered for a moment. “I, uh… I don’t…”

“Come on. Hadley v. Baxendale? I know you read about that.” She widened her eyes at him, earning a bewildered shrug. “Consequential damages. How could he have possibly anticipated _animal_ damage? They’re trying to hold him liable for damages to property that were completely incidental to the actual B &E.”

“Yeah, that’s… uh, messed up.” He scratched behind his head.

“Yeah. It is.” Kim snatched the paper back from him before he got a chance to finish reading it, turning back to the work on her desk.

He skimmed it over her shoulder. “This is a case you’re working on for HHM? I thought you were on doc review.”

“It’s a case HHM wanted me to work on. But it’s not an HHM client.”

“Then… I mean, are you sure you’re allowed to be telling me this?”

“Oh, I didn’t name any names.”

“Preston. Preston Wakefield.” He pointed sheepishly toward her desk. “It was on the…”

“…Okay, pretend you didn’t see that.”

Jimmy laughed at her. Then she laughed at herself.

He closed this distance between them a little bit more, resting his hand on her desk. “So… you’ve got a client now. That’s good, right? It’s not doc review.”

She shook her head with another snicker, not looking up from her work. “Yeah. It’s good.”

“So when do I get to start delivering your mail?”

“Soon.”

“Things are getting lonely without’cha down in the mailroom, y’know.”

She looked straight up to meet his gaze to find him looming over her. They grinned at each other.

“Well. I’ll tell you what.” She sat up straight, moving her face a little nearer to his. “You pass the bar. Start working up here. Maybe I’ll keep you company.”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, then took a step away from her to peer over the cubicle wall. “We’ll get us a pair of offices. Side-by-side. The good ones.” He scanned the perimeter of the room with his hands on his hips. “I call 312.”

Kim recognized the office number immediately.

The thought made her smile.

“Right next to Chuck’s?”

He nodded resolutely. “Right next to Chuck’s.”

* * *

“Name?”

“Kimberly Wexler.”

“Purpose for your visit?”

“Um.” Kim dug into the pocket of her suit to find her ID- she’d left her purse in her car. “I’m an attorney. I’m here to see a client. I called earlier; I should be on the visitor list.”

She handed over her driver’s license and her bar card, which the guard behind the counter only barely glanced at before handing it back.

With an apathetic glare, the guard flipped through a notebook of visitors, grumbling, “You’re here for Preston Wakefield?”

“That’s right,” she replied, tucking her ID back into her pocket. “I was told there is a visitation room available.”

The guard narrowed his eyes at her. Kim smiled anyway. She looked around as he led her inside.

It was not Kim’s first time in a jail, though it had been a long time since she’d gone to visit anyone. Even still, something about having to go there to meet a teenager didn’t sit right with her. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

She was led to a small, brown, windowless room, not much bigger than an interrogation room in a police station. Not much more comfortable either.

For better or worse, Kim’s client looked about the same as his mugshot picture- very young, very blonde, tall, sickly, pale, and alarmingly skinny.

And pissed. Very pissed.

“Preston?” She rested both hands on the table as she took a seat across from him. “My name is Kim Wexler. I’m with a law firm called Hamlin, Hamlin, & McGill. The court appointed me to take over for Mr. Nelson.”

He barely bothered looked up at her. “Yeah. I know.”

He leaned back in his seat with his arms crossed, frowning bitterly at nothing in particular. As if just to test her patience.

Kim sucked in her breath. “Are you holding up okay?”

“What do you think?”

“Judge Clark set your bail at thirty-five hundred, right?”

“He’s a dickhead,” grumbled Preston. “My family doesn’t have that kind of money. Nobody even asked me. They don’t give a shit anyway.”

She narrowed her eyes, though she was still trying to be polite. “Okay. I’m going to see what I can do. You have no priors, and given the status of your family, and the fact you’re accused of a nonviolent offense, I think it’s likely that I can file a motion to reduce your bail and get you out of here this week.”

“Good,” he replied tersely.

Stubbornly unhelpful, he refused to make eye contact, and Kim was left to figure out how to proceed without his input.

“…Is there anything else you’d like me to do for you?” she asked after a little while.

“Yeah. I got a question.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “They told me you’re a new lawyer. That you’ve never had a client before. Like… that’s not _true_ … is it?”

The exchanged a glance for the first time.

Kim _really_ didn’t want to have to answer that. “…I was sworn in last month, yes.”

“Jesus Christ. I’m gonna die in here.” He groaned loudly, resting his hand on his forehead. “You’re a bunch of self-serving pricks. The last guy could barely be fucked to show up to court on time. And then he got sick of me, so they just threw up their hands and stuck me with the fucking sorority girl whose daddy bought her a law degree.” He grimaced at her for a second before looking away again. “It’s that goddamn judge. He has it out for me.”

As it turned out, Kim did have a breaking point, after all. But she didn’t yell. Even though she wanted to.

She chose to do something far worse, instead, shooting him a disapproving look as though she was his mother, and asking sternly, “Are you done?”

He froze for a second, caught off-guard by her sudden shift in tone.

Satisfied with his reaction, she opened his file to read from the table, adding, “I sure hope you didn’t talk to the judge like that.”

He snapped right back at her. “Oh, bite me.”

“…Do you like it in jail? Is this where you want to stay?” Kim scoffed, holding up his file (adorned with his mugshot photo) to put a finer point on it. “Because you’re accused of _felony_ burglary. And you could be facing almost two years of jail time.” Having gotten his attention, she sighed loudly, resting her hands on the table again. “Now, I know you’re under a lot of stress, and I know it feels like everyone is out to get you, and I know nobody is making your life easy right now. And if you want, you can sit here and stomp your feet and cry and complain about how it’s not fair. And the next time you go in front of Judge Clark, the prosecution is likely going to recommend at _least_ a year of jail, and you know what? That’s what he’s going to give you.” She tilted her head to the side a little. “ _Or_. You can _grow up_ … and let the _one person_ whose job it is to protect your constitutional rights… do their _job_.”

…Preston looked at the floor again. A little less pissed, and a little more embarrassed.

“…Sorry,” he mumbled. Begrudgingly.

She raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“ _Sorry_.”

“I accept your apology.” She took a breath- and suppressed a grin. “Now… can you explain to me exactly what happened?”

He looked up with alarm. “Are you-? You don’t _know_?”

“Of course I know. But I want to hear _you_ tell it.”

“Alright. Fine.” He rolled his eyes, sliding back in his seat and half-shrugging. “Me and my friends used to use that auto lot to like, hang out, and… uh, like, smoke cigarettes and stuff. The night it happened, I was by myself, but I was bored as hell, so I went in same as always. The fence is busted. So I pulled it back so I could climb through the hole.”

Kim scribbled notes on a pad as he spoke. “So _you_ didn’t break open the hole in the fence?”

“No. It’s been busted for ages. Like, years, literally. I went through the same gap in the fence, like, a hundred times.”

“And what did you do after you got inside the lot?”

“I hung out for a while. I smoked a pack of cigarettes. I didn’t touch any of the cars or anything. Just, like, walked around. For like fifteen minutes. And then… I went up to the store, and I tried the door in the back. Just, like to see if it was unlocked, since there was nobody around. And it was. So I went in. And I saw the register, which hadn’t been emptied. I took the forty bucks out of it. And then I bailed through the same hole in the fence. That’s all I did.” He sighed quietly. “I didn’t think about the security cameras.”

She finished writing, and read over it to make sure she didn’t miss anything. “You left the fence pulled back when you left, right?”

“Yeah. I just forgot about it.”

“Did you know about the, er… coyotes… that came in through the same hole in the fence later that night? The ones that damaged property on the lot?”

“Did I know about the coyotes?” He groaned. “ _No_. Obviously.”

“I agree that it should be obvious. But it’s still a point of contention in the case.” She tapped her pen on her notepad. “You’re sure all of what you just said is the truth? You didn’t leave anything out? Remember, anything you say to me falls under attorney-client privilege, so I couldn’t get you in trouble even if I wanted to.”

“Jesus. No. I didn’t leave anything out.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. “That’s what happened. For real.”

“Okay. Good. Thank you.” She skimmed over her notes one more time, coming to a decision she’d been mulling over all day long. “…Based on what you’ve told me, I think you should be prepared to contest your charges at trial.”

“…What?”

She frowned seriously. “I think you should consider seeing through a not guilty plea. To trial.”

“But.” He stared blankly, not following. “…I _am_ guilty.”

“No, Preston. You’re _not_. Or, at the very least, that’s not a complete picture of the situation. With all due respect to Mr. Nelson, I don’t think he explained your situation very comprehensively.” She leaned forward, feeling invigorated. “Listen. They want to bring two separate felony charges against you. But I believe you have strong grounds on which to contest them both. The DA is alleging felony burglary on the grounds that you damaged private property in order to enter the lot, and felony property damage on the grounds that you caused damage to property as a result of your actions during the burglary. But you didn’t actually _damage_ any property. _Certainly_ not twelve hundred dollars’ worth, as the owner of the lot claims. Even if you _had_ broken the fence on entry, the owner already explained that the repairs to the fence alone cost less a hundred dollars, damage which would at _worst_ be grounds for a petty misdemeanor. And if it’s true that the fence was broken when you arrived, then there’s no basis for a claim of forcible entry in the first place, and the burglary altogether would most likely be a misdemeanor charge rather than a felony. It also gives us an ironclad basis on which to contest this… _ridiculous_ claim about animal damage. There’s _no way_ anyone can reasonably argue that you can be held liable for that, let alone that the damage was intentional, which is the standard for criminal damage to property. It will never, ever hold up.”

He threw up his hands indignantly. “Well, then, why the hell are they on my ass about it?”

“My best guess is that the owner of the shop misrepresented the incident to police. It’s possible he is hoping to use a criminal charge of property damage in order to lay a foundation to sue for punitive damages.” She waved the idea off with one hand. “But it could very well be an honest mistake, or a miscommunication. It’s not helpful to presume.”

“Wait, wait; sue? I’m gonna get _sued_ for this?”

“Relax. I really don’t think that’s a realistic possibility. It’s unlikely the owner could win anything in a civil suit besides restitution for the theft, and the court is going to expect that from you anyway. It definitely wouldn’t be worth the legal fees,” Kim explained. “That being said, a favorable verdict in the criminal proceedings would help you contest claims of damages in a civil case either way. So that should be your focus right now.”

“And you think I should say I didn’t do it. That’s not what the old lawyer said.”

“No. Don’t say that you _didn’t_ do it. You _did_ enter the property, and you did take the money. That’s the testimony you should continue to give. But given the amount you took, and the nature of the trespass, you shouldn’t be facing more than a misdemeanor and petty theft. And that’s what I’m going to take to the DA. It’s possible we could have the opportunity to plead down significantly. We could most likely get the property damage charge dropped.” She glanced at his file for a moment. “However. Your charges are very inappropriate. And they hinge on a factual discrepancy that we would probably be best equipped to argue with the benefit of witness testimony. Which is why, to be frank, I believe it would be a mistake not to be prepared to contest the charges at trial. I think it is unlikely that we could get a fair ruling at a plea hearing. So I advise you give it serious consideration. Just in case.”

He thought it over for a minute, a little distressed by the suggestion. “…But… I mean… are you really sure you can _handle_ that?”

“I understand why you might be nervous. But you have to understand. This is exactly what I went to school for. This is exactly what the _system_ is for,” she said reassuringly.

He wasn’t sure enough of himself to challenge her. And she was adamant enough to give him second thoughts. But he wasn’t quite at ease yet.

“Preston,” Kim continued, looking him in the eye. “This is why the system _works_.”


	18. Character

‘Most justice is done in front of the water cooler rather than the judge.’

It was a little nugget of wisdom that Kim had received, in one form or another, in just about every trial advocacy course she’d taken in law school.

The courthouse, she soon discovered, did not actually have a water cooler, so she tracked down the coffee machine instead. She wouldn’t actually drink the coffee, of course; even the mailroom at HHM had better accommodations (though her own elitism made her a little uncomfortable). Fortunately, the man she was looking for did not have the same reservations.

She sidled up next to him to corner him by the machine before he had time to grab his drink. “Bill? Bill Oakley?”

He looked precisely as he’d been described- a tall, fairly young guy with a poorly-concealed receding hairline. But it was the impatient look on his face that really made him easy to peg as a DDA.

Taken aback, he took a step back as soon as she materialized in front of him. “Uh. That’s me. Who are you?”

“Kim Wexler. I’m serving as assigned counsel for Wakefield.” She shook his hand before he even offered it to her. “We’d have met in a half hour at the hearing anyway, but I wanted to get the chance to talk beforehand.”

“Oh.” He lowered his wrist limply. “…Oh! It’s you! Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard about you.”

“Right. It’s good to finally meet with you in person. Even if on relatively short notice.”

“Hey, it’s alright,” chuckled Bill. “Better late than never. So, you’re with HHM, huh?” He looked her over once before openly snickering. “…Damn, you are _nuts_. I’ll tell you, if Howard Hamlin hired _me_ , I would be staying away from this place as much as humanly possible. I mean, you guys have functional air conditioning over there.”

“…I take it things aren’t great at the DA’s office.”

“No. No, that they are not.” He got lost in thought as he considered it, apparently with some distaste. “…So, tsch, I guess I’m in no position to judge if you want to volunteer to take on PD cases. Not that I get it.”

With a shrug, he grabbed his coffee from the machine and turned away from her, leaving her behind without a second thought.

Kim rolled her eyes before she followed. “So, um. While we’re on the subject of PD cases. I was hoping we could talk about ours a little?”

“Huh?” He glanced over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow before remembering. “Oh, yeah, yeah, of course. Sorry, I’m just juggling a lot of stuff right now. I’m doing like, six of these in the next few weeks. You said you’re Wakefield, right? That’s, what… the… burglary? And felony property damage?”

With that said, he kept right on walking, forcing Kim to scurry along at his side just to keep up.

“Yes, that’s right,” she replied sourly.

“Yeah, okay. I was already talking about this with the last guy. Nelson, I think. We just about had something worked out.” He stared at the ceiling as he spoke, mentally sifting through a half-dozen plea deals he was in the middle of negotiating. “I was originally saying two years jail total. Eighteen months for the burglary plus another six for the property damage. But Nelson and I agreed, if your guy can take the eighteen months for burglary, we can drop the property damage charge to a misdemeanor, and leave him with a fine.”

Kim scoffed immediately at the proposal, but Bill didn’t even seem to notice. She’d tried to prepare for the worst, and yet it was still harsher than she’d been expecting.

She stepped in front of him to cut him off, earning a glare. “Eighteen months _and_ a fine? Really?”

“Maybe even with some wiggle room for a suspension after the first year.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “But… yeah. Fine for misdemeanor property damage and eighteen months for the break-in. Pretty reasonable if you ask me.”

“But there _was_ _no_ break-in.”

“What? You _did_ read the report… right?”

By now, he’d obviously had enough of her, and his glare made it abundantly clear that he was no longer taking her seriously.

Kim fired back swiftly: “Did _you_ read it? There’s no evidence of forcible entry anywhere.”

“You don’t consider the gigantic tear in the fence evidence?” he replied with an incredulous laugh.

“Wakefield didn’t make that tear. The fence was damaged when he got there.”

“Okay. Says _him_.”

“Well, his word is better than _yours_. It’s not like you can _prove_ he’s the one that put the tear in the fence. The owner already told police he wasn’t sure when the fence was damaged.”

They sized each other up for a few seconds, and Bill threw up his hands, sloshing coffee around in his cup. “Alright, you know what? Why don’t you just tell me what you want so we can stop screwing around?”

“Okay.” She shrugged unapologetically. “Drop the burglary charge and the property damage charge. My guy will plead guilty to criminal trespass and the theft.”

“…You want to trade me two felonies for a misdemeanor and a petty.”

“That’s what’s fair.”

“He _broke in_ to private property to rob the place. And he left the lot trashed.”

“He stole _forty bucks_ out of a cash register, Bill. He’s eighteen years old. He hasn’t even graduated from high school yet. I’m not gonna let you put a felony on his record for this. I can’t. Not in good conscience.”

She’d captured his attention at least enough to get him to stand still, which was something of a victory in its own right. But somehow he seemed a little less like he was impressed by her gumption, and a little more like he was dumbstruck that she was wasting his time with this.

“…Tell you what,” said Bill, alongside an exaggerated sigh. “Since you’re new, and you got thrown into the middle of this, I’ll be generous.” He took a sip from his cup, making eye contact as he did, then jabbed a finger at her. “ _One_ year jail. No probation. Fine for misdemeanor property damage. And he agrees to pay off the damages.”

“I’m never going to agree to that.” She was trying her best to be fair and tough at the same time, and she chose her words as carefully as possible. “You have to drop the property damage charge at the very least. We shouldn’t even be negotiating about it. It’s spurious. You have to know that.”

“No. What I _know_ is, the property owner locked his gate and went home for the evening, and a kid broke in to his lot while he was gone. And then, when he came back in the morning, he found twelve hundred dollars’ worth of damage done to his property, and he had to call animal control.”

“But that’s obviously circumstantial.”

“ _Circumstantial_ …? Kim, your guy was caught on _tape_.”

“He was caught on tape in the _store_. Taking cash out of the _register_. How on Earth does that prove intentional property damage? It’s not like there were security cameras in the auto lot.”

“The only reason animals got into the lot in the first place is because he left that hole in the fence open when he fled the scene.”

“It doesn’t make a difference how they got in! He easily could have just forgotten to close the fence. And that’s exactly what he will testify to. You have no way of proving he even knew animals were going to be able to get in, let alone that that was his _intent_. What motive would he even _have_ for damaging the owner’s property? They have no prior history, and he was stone-cold sober.”

“I have means and opportunity. I don’t _need_ motive.”

Kim looked away for a moment. “Maybe not, but if you go in front of a jury, you’re sure going to want it.”

That one got him.

“…A _jury_? Oh, for…” Bill threw his head back. “Come _on_. What are you _doing_ , Kim?”

She shrugged with an open hand. “Zealously defending my client?”

Earnest as it was, it earned a groan from Bill all the same, who pressed two fingers to his temple with exasperation. “Look. I get that you’re new, and you want to, like, impress Howard Hamlin, and everything. But this is _not_ how we do things. We can’t take every little two-bit burglary to trial. This is getting old. You need to work with me here.”

“It’s not a burglary. It’s criminal trespass. And petty theft.”

That came out more rudely than she expected. And as certain as Kim was that she was right, she had no desire to burn bridges, especially on the first case she had ever taken.

She continued a little more gently, as a compromise. “Look. I’m not trying to make your life difficult. I’m sorry if this is inconvenient for you. I sincerely am. I know you’re busier than me, and I’m not trying to take advantage of that. But at the end of the day, you’re overcharging him. _Way_ overcharging him. And I’m trying to reach a fair outcome here.”

Bill held fast. “I already told you I’m willing to bring the property damage down to a misdemeanor. That is _more_ than ‘fair’. But what you’re asking for is just never gonna happen. You’ve got to take at least a year of jail for the burglary. It’s a felony. I’m not getting more flexible than that.”

He wasn’t going to budge any further, and Kim had officially done her due diligence. It was true that she was not one for burning bridges. But she was not one for bashing her head against a brick wall, either.

“Okay. Fine. Fair enough.” She checked her watch. “I’ve got to go get my client. He should be here by now.”

And she left him behind, taking off down the hall to make her way to the entrance of the courthouse.

He scurried after her, stunned by the abrupt end to their informal little meeting. “Wait, wait, wait! ‘Fair enough’? We don’t have anything to tell the judge! What is that supposed to mean, ‘fair enough’?”

Kim glanced over her shoulder.

Her reply was as cordial as she could muster. “…Well, Bill, I guess it means I’ll see you in court.”

* * *

In the basement at HHM, Kim found herself, as usual, fumbling around with papers in the dark. She had two stacks; one for papers waiting to be reviewed and one for papers waiting to be filed.

Kim had set them both aside to make room for Wakefield case files, which she was working on instead.

She pushed a button on her digital watch- it was nearly noon already. Somehow the entire morning had gotten by her. She rubbed sand out of her eyes without a second thought.

Only one other lawyer had been unfortunate enough to be stuck doing doc review with her that morning, though they mostly sat in silence at opposite ends of the table as they worked.

After some undiscernible amount of time, he finally cleared his throat to speak to her for the first time in what felt like hours. “Hey, Kim?”

She didn’t even look up from the table. “Hm?”

“I’m going to go grab my lunch out of the fridge. You want me to bring yours back? Or maybe some coffee or something?”

“Uh.” She reread a line on the page, having lost her place while listening to him. “…No, I’m good. Thanks…”

“Suit yourself.”

He slid awkwardly out of his chair, stiff as a board, and shuffled toward the doorway.

On his way out, Kim heard him say, “Afternoon, Mr. Hamlin.”

…And her eyes shot up immediately.

There was no good reason for Howard to have come downstairs, and yet there he was, one hand tucked into his pocket and the other carrying a blue coffee mug.

He smiled to Kim as he took the seat at her side, resting his mug on the table next to one of her stacks of papers.

“How’re you doing, Kim?” he greeted her, raising his mug like it was a toast and taking a sip.

“Hi, Howard.” She glanced around the room, as though there was literally anyone else he could have come to talk to. “Did… you need something…?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, he slid forward in his seat a little and read over her shoulder, skimming the Wakefield document she’d been reviewing. Kim fought an intense impulse to cover it with her palm, or maybe to hide it under something else. Like a high school student caught doing homework for another class.

“What’s that you’re working on?” Howard asked with a raised eyebrow, evidently amused to have found her wasting time.

She sucked in her breath through her teeth. “Agh… I’m sorry. I was just taking a short break. I’ll be finished with these memos for Cordero in a few hours, I just-”

“-It’s okay, it’s okay,” he laughed. “I’m not here to babysit you. No one has any complaints about the work you’ve been doing so far.”

“Then…?”

He considered it for a moment. “I heard about this case you’re working on.” He smirked a little. “Judge Clark asked me about it.”

“We’re going to trial next week.”

“Right. I thought that was interesting. When… when the partners suggested taking on a case from the PD’s office, it wasn’t with the intention that it would go to trial.” He raised a hand to stop her from responding so he could clarify. “Not that I mean to discourage you. It _is_ valuable experience.”

“I’ve been careful budgeting my time. At this rate, I should have this week’s billing quota filled by EOD Thursday. It won’t be a problem.”

“I don’t doubt that. You haven’t fallen behind yet.”

“And I appreciate the time you’ve set aside for me to work on this.”

“I _did_ tell you, I’m available as a resource. And the same goes for Chuck. And I don’t want to speak for any other associates, but… regardless, you get the picture. You don’t have to figure it all out by yourself.”

“Of course. I appreciate that. But I’m sure that you- and Chuck, and everyone else- would be better off not having to field questions about some… nothing case.” She didn’t like that term, ‘nothing’. Or agree with it. So she walked it back a little. “…That is to say, a case that has nothing to do with HHM.”

Howard didn’t respond to that right away, and he eyed up Kim with a newly intrigued expression, gears turning in his head.

He broke eye contact before she did, pointing a finger to the document in front of her. “So, you never answered me. What _is_ it that you’re working on now?”

“Oh. It’s, uh…” She glanced at it again. “It’s a copy of the jury instructions I’m planning to request. I’m just giving it another once-over to be safe.”

“This is the kind of thing that really makes you appreciate having a paralegal,” he replied with a chuckle. “You’re requesting special instructions? What for?”

“Well, one of the charges I’m trying to contest is fourth degree felony burglary. It hinges on the issue of forcible entry, which the prosecution can’t prove. But I feel it will be difficult to challenge unless I can include jury instruction on some lesser included offenses. Criminal trespass. And petty larceny.”

“Ooh… DA’s going to fight _that_.”

“I fully expect them to.”

She looked him in the eye again, firm and self-assured. Commanding respect. He continued to study her.

Then he patted his free hand on the table and stood up to leave. “…It’s just about lunchtime, Kim. Take an hour and a half. Go out. Get some fresh air.” He paused just before reaching the door to look back at her one more time. “It’s depressing in here.”

* * *

“Mr. Oakley. The prosecution is satisfied with the current jury panel?”

Bill was, of course, not much satisfied with anything about the way the case had advanced thus far, least of all the trial that he had been forced to clear his morning to attend. But there was not much room for complaining in a courtroom.

He shot Kim a tired look from the prosecution’s table.

And then, reluctantly, he sighed and responded, “…Yes, Your Honor.”

The judge, himself looking fairly impatient, immediately turned toward Kim. “And the defense, Miss Wexler?”

She replied swiftly. “Yes, Your Honor.”

Preston shuffled restlessly at Kim’s side, his eyes darting back and forth between the lawyers, the judge, and the gallery. Getting him dressed up for court hadn’t become less of a hassle no matter how many times she’d had to go through the process with him.

Howard’s point about there being no replacement for a real courtroom had held true at least in one respect- at least in moot court, the law students were all at least _pretending_ to want to be there.

“Okay. Very good. Then we can proceed.” Judge Clark leaned over to mumble something to his clerk, then read straight from the papers in front of him. “Once again, we’re on the record. Here for indictment number DF-1999611381, the matter of the State of New Mexico versus Preston Wakefield. All parties are here and present. This court is in session.” He cleared his throat, shooting a glance toward the jury booth. “I’d like to thank the jury once again for their patience during the selection process. We appreciate you all taking the time out of your week to… see this matter through.” He looked at Kim out of the corner of his eye for a moment. “…With that said… we should be ready to proceed with opening statements. Mr. Oakley, is the prosecution prepared to begin?”

Bill closed his eyes to take a breath. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“Good. Then you may proceed when you’re ready.”

“Thank you. Uh. Your Honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury.” He shot another vaguely passive-aggressive look at Kim. “Opposing counsel.” Then he made his way over to the jury booth, carrying his notes in one hand. “My name is Bill Oakley. I am representing the State of New Mexico in this matter. Uh… may it please the Court.” He shot one more glance toward the judge. “Today I will attempt to argue that the defendant is guilty of the crimes of burglary and criminal damage to property. But to put it frankly: the question today is not really about what the defendant has or has not done. Mr. Wakefield is not a _suspect_ in an investigation. There is nothing to investigate. The evidence has been collected and evaluated. Over the course of the morning, you will hear from witnesses that can testify to the damage done to the fence, and to other property at the crime scene, as well as witnesses that will testify as to Mr. Wakefield’s presence at the scene. You will see for yourselves the security footage that serves as unequivocal proof of the theft that took place. And after the evidence has been presented to you, you will be asked a simply question: guilty, or not guilty? _That_ is your obligation to this court. Not to split hairs, as the defense will ask of you. Not to… tease apart any moral dilemmas about innocence or guilt. You are more than welcome to do that on your own time.” He made a sweeping gesture with his hands, his notes flapping around as he did. “My point being… this is a matter that you are asked to reach a verdict for today solely by evaluating the evidence. Today, the evidence speaks for itself. And I promise you, it will show you a guilty man.” With that, he turned away, adding to the judge, “That’s all. Thank you.”

Clark nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Oakley.” As Bill returned to his table, Clark whispered something else to his clerk, then sat up straight, directing his gaze right at Kim. “Miss Wexler. Is the defense prepared to deliver their opening statement at this time?”

She clenched the sides of her clothes as she responded, heart suddenly pounding as she struggled not to forget every word of what she’d rehearsed. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“Then please proceed when you are ready.”

The courtroom went silent as everyone waited for her. For a moment or two, Kim hesitated, sorting through pages and pages of notes at the defense table, trying not to let herself get overwhelmed. Preston stared at his hands with anxiety. His parents were in the gallery at that very moment, probably sick to death with worry. Kim took a deep breath.

And she centered herself. “I’m ready. Thank you, Your Honor.” She walked straight to the jury booth.

“That man in the front row is Mr. Jonathan Reid,” she declared suddenly, raising a finger to point to the witness in question. “He is on the witness list, and will be testifying for the prosecution this morning.” She looked one of the jurors in the eye, and then another, being sure to capture everyone’s attention. “On the night in question, my client, Mr. Wakefield, entered the property of Mr. Reid while it was closed to the public. This was against the law. He proceeded to steal Mr. Reid’s money- forty dollars in cash- from the cash register of the shop. This was also, unarguably, against the law. These are _crimes_ that were committed by the defendant. These are the _facts_ of the case. The defense does not dispute them. _Mr. Wakefield_ , while he regrets them deeply, does not dispute them. If these facts alone were the matter at hand today, you would not be hearing this case. It would not have been taken to trial. And my client would have pled guilty. Because there would be no dispute.” She glanced back at Bill with a frown as she turned over a page in her notes. “But these facts are not the only ones relevant to this case. And the allegations against my client reach far beyond the facts that have been established. His charges, those being burglary and felony damage to property, are complicated, and very serious. They require forcible entry. They require criminal intent. They require malice aforethought. And they, as I will argue before you today, _cannot_ be proven. As you have heard, and will hear many more times today, they _must_ be proven in order for you to ethically reach a guilty verdict. Beyond a reasonable doubt. That is the burden of the prosecution: to overcome the presumption of my client’s innocence that it is your obligation as jurors to uphold. I hope to put this in as plain language as I can: if you believe there is any reasonable doubt that my client deliberately and maliciously left Mr. Reid’s property open for wild animals to enter, then it is your duty to deliver a verdict of not guilty for the charge of criminal damage to property. And if you believe there is any reasonable doubt that my client forcibly entered Mr. Reid’s property by damaging the exterior fence, then it is your duty to deliver a verdict of not guilty for the charge of burglary. That does _not_ mean there is no more nuanced way to find justice for Mr. Reid. I am sure that many of you are primarily concerned with my client’s wrongdoing, and desire strongly to see him punished for it. But just because he is not entirely innocent does not mean he is guilty of any allegation thrust at him, however gratuitously. I know that it’s tempting to believe that a person who is guilty of any crime can be dismissed as guilty by nature. That there is… a type of person that isn’t entitled to the benefit of the doubt. That the mistakes a person makes must necessarily inform their character. It’s _tempting_ to fall back on this way of thinking. But… it’s not _just_. And while you do know, as a matter of record, the facts about Mr. Wakefield’s behavior- the mistakes that he has made- what you do _not_ know is his character. And that means… you have only seen one side of him."

She paused for emphasis, turning over another page of her notes. Everyone was obliged to be quiet and hear her statement, of course, but the dead silence in the courtroom still felt weighty, somehow. The court reporter took a moment to catch up with her.

Kim was pumping with adrenaline as she finished her speech. “To reach a just verdict, it is your duty to reserve judgment, to keep an open mind, and to come to a decision based on what you know, rather than what you, or the prosecution, presume. And if you are earnestly committed to that duty, the most just decision will follow naturally.” She folded her hands in front of her over her papers. “Thank you all for your time.”

And she returned to her table, nodding to Judge Clark as he acknowledged her. “Thank you, Miss Wexler.”

He mumbled to his clerk one more time, then proceeded speaking to the courtroom, preparing to begin the trial process in proper.

Preston kept fidgeting, picking at his fingernails or nervously fixing his tie. Kim tapped him on the shoulder to flash him a reassuring smile. Then she snuck a glance to the opposite side of the room.

At the prosecution table, Bill covered his mouth to scratch his face, cursing under his breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, right? Fanfiction for a show that is all about lawyers and now there is actual lawyering happening in it? I was surprised, too.
> 
> So, Jimmy is definitely the “main” character of this fic in general, and I have been writing it with that mindset, but I’ve noticed something interesting looking back over the story so far. This chapter marks the second in the fic where no mention is made (directly, anyhow) of Jimmy. While Kim actually has yet to be absent from even a single chapter. I didn’t plan it this way in advance, but it’s interesting how stuff works out sometimes. I wonder if this occurred to anyone else as they were reading prior to me making note of it here?


	19. Symmetrical

A morning in the courtroom swiftly turned into an afternoon, separated by one recess for lunch, which Kim spent indoors, on a bench, eating a turkey sandwich out of a brown bag. She could scarcely remember the last time she had been so invigorated.

Everyone reconvened, and the afternoon carried on, and eventually it stretched into a second day, which carried on into a third, until the court recessed again so the jury could deliberate. They did so, quite languidly, for the entirety of another afternoon, until the end of the workday started to loom and the threat of another day in court kicked them all into high gear. Kim spent the duration of those deliberations sitting on that same bench outside the courtroom.

Sometime near the end, when Preston left her side to have a paranoid conversation with his mother, Bill found an opportunity to slump down in the seat next to her. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he was just a bit too embarrassed to look her in the eye right away.

“Hey.”

“…Hi.”

“I, uh… I don’t suppose you’re still open to a plea bargain.” Bill shrugged with an open hand. “We can drop the property damage charge. Let’s say six months jail. With parole?”

They exchanged a glance, and Kim frowned at him apologetically.

“I don’t think so, Bill,” she mumbled.

He gave a wry chuckle and shook his head. “I’ll tell you… if you pull this one off, you’re gonna have quite a story to tell. You’re sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Well… three years of moot court.”

“…Man, that’s… humiliating.”

Gritting his teeth, Bill slid back on the bench, staring off in the opposite direction from her. They both remained sitting like that for a while, until the bailiff finally made his way down the hall to break the two of them up.

“Excuse me, Miss Wexler. Mr. Oakley. Deliberations are finished; Judge Clark requests you back in the courtroom as soon as possible.”

Both lawyers thanked him simultaneously, and he moved on to call back the remaining members of the gallery.

Bill sucked in his breath. “Well, time for your victory lap.” He stood up before she did, and he almost bowed out altogether- but first, he added, “Hey, uh… good luck with HHM and everything.”

She was quiet for a moment. “Thank you for saying that.”

“See you inside.”

They exchanged one last glance, and he slinked off to await his impending loss. But she waited to reunite with Preston before going in herself.

He didn’t make eye contact with her once as he approached from the other end of the hall, where his mother was apparently trying to ask the bailiff something.

Kim fired a look of concern down the hall as she stood to greet him. “How is she?”

“Take a wild guess. She’s freaking out.” Preston stared at the floor, gnashing his teeth. “I can’t go to jail. I got… like, plans. You know? _Please_ tell me I’m not going to jail.”

In spite of everything, he was still trying to look tough, though nobody was buying it.

It was impossible not to be optimistic, but Kim knew much better than to count her chickens. “I’m sorry. It’s out of my hands now. Just… like I told you- hope for the best, prepare for the worst.” She peered at him with a gentle frown, and she waited for him to fold and look her in the eye before continuing. “Whatever happens in there… everything is going to work out. Okay? Trust me.”

“…Yeah,” he grunted, along with an unconvincing nod. “If you say so…”

“C’mon. It’s time to get moving.”

The kid dragged his feet following her back into the courtroom, looking everywhere but where he was supposed to look. He’d spent the entire trial glancing at Kim to his side, over and over, neurotically, out of constant fear that she’d make a mistake- not that he would even recognize a mistake if he saw one. But he was young, and scared, and she wasn’t insulted by it.

The bailiff was the first to speak once the judge finally entered, and Kim nudged Preston with the side of her foot to get him to pay attention.

“All rise. The Second Judicial District Court is once again in session. Honorable Judge Clark presiding.”

“Yes, yes, you may be seated; thank you.” Judge Clark waved everyone off with one hand practically as soon as they were on their feet, settling into his own chair with an uncomfortable grunt. “Now, members of the jury, it is my understanding that you have reached a verdict with regards to both counts in the indictment, and Mrs. Holmberg, you are the designated foreperson. Is that correct, ma’am?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” replied a woman in the bottom row of the jury booth.

“Very good. Thank you. And the verdict form has been handed in to the bailiff; I have that in front of me now,” noted Clark, lifting said sheet in the air as he gestured to the bailiff. “Now, then, as we proceed- Mr. Wakefield. Mr. Oakley, Miss Wexler. If you would all please rise for the reading of the verdict.”

Bill and Kim both stood immediately, and Preston, following their lead, pulled himself to his feet a split-second later.

“Okay. The verdict form reads as follows.” Clark cleared his throat before reading off the form. “Second Judicial District Court of New Mexico, county of Bernalillo. In the matter of the State of New Mexico versus Preston Wakefield, indictment number DF-1999611381, we, the jury, with respect to the charge in count one, unanimously find the defendant, Preston Anthony Wakefield, not guilty of criminal damage to property as charged in the indictment. With respect to the charge in count two, we, the jury, unanimously find the defendant, Preston Anthony Wakefield, not guilty of burglary as charged in the indictment, on the condition that the defendant is instead found guilty of two lesser order offenses on count two, those being criminal trespass and petty misdemeanor larceny. So say we all; signed, Amy Holmberg, Foreperson.’ And, Madam Foreperson, can you confirm that this is in fact your signature indicating your verdict?”

The foreperson spoke firmly again. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“Very good. And would either attorney wish for the jurors to be polled?”

Bill shot Kim a sideways glance out of the corner of his eye. She was smiling, of course, a little bit. But it was all professional.

They answered simultaneously. “No, Your Honor.”

“Then, as the verdict reads, the defendant, Mr. Wakefield, is found not guilty of the charge of fourth degree felony criminal damage to property, not guilty of the charge of fourth degree felony burglary, guilty of the charge of misdemeanor criminal trespass, and guilty of the charge of petty misdemeanor larceny. Unless there are any other matters either party would like to bring before the court, I am prepared to issue a sentence at this time.” Nobody had any other points to raise, of course, and Clark barely allotted a moment for anyone to actually raise any, regardless. “Mr. Wakefield. For the charge of misdemeanor criminal trespassing, you are sentenced to time served. And for the charge of petty larceny, you are sentenced to a fine of one hundred dollars, on the condition that restitution of forty dollars is paid to the victim, Mr. Reid, in addition to the fine.”

A remarkably generous sentence, all things considered, Kim thought- hardly a sentence at all. Though going to trial at all was a kind of punishment in and of itself. A grueling one, at that.

Preston leaned in very close to her, hands clasped together in front of him in a nervous vicegrip. “Time served…?”

She gestured firmly for him to look at the judge rather than her, and whispered through gritted teeth, “That means no more jail.”

“Jesus Christ…”

In spite of all Kim’s advising about decorum, he shut his eyes tight and threw his head back over his shoulders, running both hands through his hair and mussing it all up. In the gallery, a few people starting clamoring amongst themselves in hushed whispers. Kim looked over her shoulder at Preston’s parents, who looked nearly as relieved as he did. The judge kept on talking without a second thought.

As he did, it occurred to Kim that she hadn’t thought about HHM in days.

“Thank you, once again, members of the jury, for your service. And thank you to all present for your patience in our proceedings today. This court is now adjourned.”

She allowed herself a little sacrifice of decorum of her own, and her face lit up like a candle.

* * *

_Dearest applicant,_

    _James McGill_

_Congratulations! After careful consideration of your letter and your $50 application fee, we are pleased to announce your acceptance to the university’s fledgling law program. For several years since our formal accreditation, we have worked tirelessly to provide a comprehensive and resource-conservative education for our many selective applicants. Be proud to have joined the ranks of our highly adequate student base! At your earliest convenience, please contact the registrar to confirm your enrollment._

_Enclosed below is your list of registered courses in accordance with your application, along with a list of required materials. Please consult the attached brochure for access to all necessary course materials at reasonable prices._

_We look forward to maintaining close correspondence with you in the future,_      _James McGill_!

_Dean of Students & Director of Admissions,_

-Some unintelligible signature-

_University of American Samoa_

Jimmy’s first thought was, if he and Marco had ever gotten more ambitious, it seemed like exactly the kind of thing they might have come up with.

He tossed the letter haphazardly onto his kitchen table, where it landed next to several stacks of casebooks. The attached ‘brochure’ was just a single-sheet ransom note in a typewriter font, asking him to send back to the school in order to purchase his books directly from them. Fortunately, a few of the titles on the list were already a part of his collection, which he had laid out in its entirety on the table for the sake of comparison. Holding the brochure in one hand, Jimmy sifted through each book on its own to see what he could get away without ordering.

He had only read from a few, though none all that extensively, admittedly. Even still, he had at least _opened_ most of them. The most recent batch, though, he hadn’t even bothered to look at, figuring they wouldn’t come in handy, at least during his first year of study.

Sorting through them on the kitchen table, though, one of them caught his eye- the one on the top of the stack, which was propped open a little and apparently dog-eared on the very first page.

As he opened it to investigate, he found a note scrawled on the inside cover in black pen.

_Stay focused._

_& keep your tie straight._

_Good luck._

_-Kim_

He read it a few times in a row to himself.

There was a number on the bottom of the admission letter, for the registrar’s office. Jimmy’s eyes traced over it, and he reached for his phone, contemplating.

And then it rang, before he ever got the chance to dial.

He raised it to his ear with a frown. “Hello?”

Kim’s voice came through immediately. “Hey, what are you wearing?”

“Uh.” Jimmy glanced down at his disheveled clothes with a self-conscious grimace. “…Well… nothing sexy, but in my defense, I’m usually the one that calls _you_.” He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “But, y’know, I could be wearing less.”

He could practically feel the weight of her eye-roll from the other end of the line.

“Go put on something nice,” she instructed with a snicker. “Work nice. Or nicer, if you have it. And take a shower. I’ll be at your place in, like, half an hour. Forty-five minutes at most. I just need to freshen up here a little first.”

Interest piqued suddenly, he tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear, using both hands to adjust his shirt.  “What’s goin’ on? We going someplace?”

“Have you ever heard of Geronimo? It’s up in Santa Fe. I’m gonna make us a reservation. My treat.”

“I- uh… okay.” He clicked his tongue as he took the phone in his hand again. “Is this some kind of special occasion?”

“Yes.” She declared it like she was making an executive decision on the spot, but she didn’t bother to elaborate. “Okay, Jimmy. Forty-five minutes. Get cleaned up, seriously. Wear a tie. They have a dress code at this place.”

Jimmy blinked. “Yes, ma’am. You got it.”

“See you then.”

His books sat untouched on the table for the rest of the evening.

* * *

Jimmy didn’t actually own a proper suit. Not outside of a single, ratty old black one, which would have been out of place anywhere other than a funeral (which was exactly what he had bought it for, incidentally). It was about as unromantic as he could imagine, so instead he just wore a collared shirt from work and a tie, which Kim stepped in to fix the moment she laid eyes on him. She had opted for something substantially nicer, some velvety white blouse and a skirt. Something much less mailroom-y.

And so the two of them drove up to Santa Fe looking like they were dressed for two completely separate events. But Kim didn’t say a word about it, so neither did he. Between the drive and the actual wait to get seated, he had plenty of time to adjust.

“Are we ready to order drinks? Or do you need more time-?”

The waiter had put them by a window, at a little candlelit table with a flower arrangement in the center. Maybe it was just the change in scenery, Jimmy thought, but it was a nice view- nicer than anywhere he had eaten at in Albuquerque so far.

Kim ordered before him. “I’ll just get a glass of your house red. Thanks.”

“And for you, sir?”

“Oh. Same here.” Jimmy leaned to the side to shoot Kim a glance. “You wanna just order a bottle for the table? I know you said you were buying, but I’m happy to cover it.”

“…Yeah. Sure.” She shot him a curious look before turning to the waiter to add, “We’ll just do that instead; thank you.”

“Of course.”

“And I got it, Jimmy, seriously.” She turned back to her date as the waiter left, resting a hand on her menu. “Although, I have to say, I didn’t know you drank wine.”

“Well, you’ve got me here in a tie, with my napkin folded on my lap. I’m not gonna order something off the tap. I’ve got class.” He swished his hands in front of him to emphasize the declaration.

“Mhm. Okay.” She raised her menu to mask a disbelieving look. “Well, don’t feel pressured on my account. I brought you here so we could enjoy ourselves, not so we could… you know, put on airs.”

“Not putting on airs. Just thought it would be nice to share a bottle of wine, that’s all.”

“ _Does_ sound nice.”

She skimmed through the menu without looking up at him. Jimmy watched her instead.

“…Okay, so, are you gonna keep me in suspense all night?” That got her attention- he flashed a grin. “We’re here, right? So, when do I get to find out why?”

His enthusiasm made her snicker.

“I won my case,” she replied offhandedly, along with a little shrug. “And it earned me a little extra cash on top of my HHM paycheck, so, y’know, good opportunity to celebrate with something expensive.”

Jimmy did a double take. “…Your case? Wakefield? You won, seriously? Well, _shit_ , Kim! This _is_ a special occasion! Screw the wine! We should order champagne or something.” He scoffed to himself, smiling infectiously. “I knew you had it in you!”

“Yeah. So did I.” She took his reaction like it was permission to appear proud of herself. “But, this is like… it’s more than that. I mean… today, I could really picture myself doing this for the rest of my life.” She stared at the table, tapping a finger rhythmically. “Have you… have you ever had a moment where everything just… like, clicked for you?”

“I.” He locked his jaw. “Yeah. I dunno. But I’m happy for you.”

“I’m just feeling really good about things right now.”

Kim was focused directly on Jimmy’s face as she said that. Curiously at first, but then more warmly, as though she was figuring out exactly what she meant by that even as she was saying it.

With a relaxed sigh, she outstretched her arm over the table and found Jimmy’s hand, which she took hold of. “I’m glad I have someone I can share that with,” she added softly. “I just haven’t had something like this in… a while.”

He drummed a finger on her wrist, then released her, jabbing a finger in her direction instead. “…Well, I’ll tell you what, if this black tie thing ever starts to get too stuffy for you, we can always go back to the original plan,” he replied flippantly. “I mean it. I’ll call _you_ up this time. I’ve got the tube and the wax paper ready to go.”

She broke out laughing immediately. “Oh, God, this again.” She pulled her hand back in so she could rest it on her forehead. “I can give you a one-hundred-percent guarantee that there is not a single human being on Earth that finds that sexy. Makes you sound like the world’s brokest kidnapper trying to demand ransom money.”

“Ah, ah, don’t be so sure. Ask my ex-wife. She loved it, I’m telling you.”

“…Seriously?”

“Yeah. I dunno. Really pushed the right buttons for her. Pun intended.” He looked at the ceiling. “I mean… granted, I’m pretty sure we were both on LSD at the time, so that might have had somethin’ to do with it. But… y’know, that was the ‘80s. We were _always_ on LSD. Different era.”

Kim looked away with a sudden scoff. “Jesus, Jimmy.”

“It was a different era!” he cried out defensively.

“It was ten years ago at _most_.”

“Well, whatever. A lot’s happened since then either way. Proud, upstanding citizen here.” He patted a hand down on the table, chuckling at nothing in particular just to lighten the mood a little. “I’m a student of the law now. What’s more upstanding than that?”

She waved him off. “Not yet, you’re not. Aren’t you still waiting to hear back from them?”

“Au contraire,” he announced with faux pride. “Finally got the letter in the mail, actually. I just need to confirm my enrollment.”

Kim froze. “What, _today_?”

“Yeah. Today.”

“Jimmy! Why didn’t you tell me sooner? C’mon!” She slid forward excitedly in her seat, resting her hand on top of his again. “We _should_ get champagne.”

“Oh, yeah. You making huge strides in your career. Me making huge strides in… y’know, licking stamps.”

He scratched his arm self-consciously. Kim’s smile faded, and she slid her hand just a fingertip’s length from his.

“Don’t,” she said glumly. “Don’t say that.”

He shrugged. “I’m just kidding.”

“I know. But still. Don’t… put yourself down like that. It’s not a joke. It’s cool. _Really_ cool.” She touched the tips of his fingers. “I mean, think about what it really is that you’re doing. Jimmy, you are _exactly_ the kind of person that I looked up to when I was a kid.”

Jimmy laughed at the thought. “…What, penniless and committing to a dead-end job so I can study for a law degree years down the road?”

“Yeah, you bet your ass.”

She was dead serious, as surprising as Jimmy found that.

He just shrugged again. “…You and I had very different role models growing up.”

“Just think about what you’re building. Think about _that_.” She leaned back. “It’s worth taking seriously. That’s all.”

They looked each other in the eye.

Jimmy steeled himself. “Yeah… gotta get my name up on that sign.” He smirked. “Next to yours. Right?”

“Hamlin, Hamlin, McGill, Wexler, McGill?”

“Nah.” He held out his hands in front of him to form a ‘W’. “Put the W in the middle. HHWMM. That way it’s symmetrical. Looks better on the sign.”

“You can’t do that. It’s not an art project. It’s about, like, branding. And reputation. Not how it looks on a sign.”

“HHMWM. Doesn’t really flow off the tongue.”

“At that point I’m sure they would just use ‘Howard Hamlin & Partners’ or something.”

“Sure, over Chuck’s dead body.”

They shared a laugh. Kim brushed hair out of her eyes.

When the waiter came back, they ordered champagne.


End file.
